


Tale as Old as Time

by AlejaBen



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Disney owns them ALL, F/M, Luke is Belle, Mara is the Beast, When Disney canons collide, mash-up fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-26 21:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20749106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlejaBen/pseuds/AlejaBen
Summary: A quiet village. A castle in the forest. A brave farmer who willingly agrees to be a prisoner in exchange for his friends' freedom. A beast, enchanted by an evil emperor, who is not what she seems.There might be something there that wasn't there before. Now with added lightsabers.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note 1: This is an old challenge fic, cleaned up and now regularly updated. The rest of the story has been written so it will be finished!
> 
> The challenge: Write a Star Wars story based on a classic fairy tale (Grimm or otherwise) and insert Luke and Mara into it.
> 
> The following words need to be included:  
-Popsicle  
-Catastrophe  
-Pittance
> 
> To make things a bit interesting, don’t name the fairy tale and see if people can guess.
> 
> Although anyone familiar with 90’s Disney animated films shouldn’t find it too hard.
> 
> Author’s note 2: Several lines are intentionally borrowed from a certain Oscar nominated film. The prologue especially is borrowed from Linda Woolverton’s screenplay and is intended as a loving homage. 
> 
> Author’s note 3: Set after The Empire Strikes Back, but heavily AU.
> 
> Author’s note 4: Disney owns it all. ALL.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a hideous Emperor lived on a shining planet. He used the dark side of the Force to obtain nearly everything his heart desired. Soon the entire galaxy was held tight in his grip. 

But the Emperor remained spoiled, selfish and unkind. 

And then, one night, a desperate young mother, hunted down for being a hated Jedi, was dragged into his throne room. And the mother offered him her young child to raise as he wanted, if he would just spare the child’s life. 

The Emperor sneered at her gift, and ordered both mother and child to be put to death immediately. But the mother warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for true power could be found within her child. The Emperor forcibly entered the mother’s mind, ripping through her Jedi defenses. And her child was revealed to be, in sooth, strong in the Force.

The Emperor had the mother killed, for there was no love in his heart. But he spared the child. As revenge on his enemies, he would transform this Jedi youngling into a hideous beast of vengeance. And he used the dark side of the Force to place the child under his powerful spell.

But the child the mother had offered him was indeed an enchanted child. Her mother had hidden, deep inside the child’s mind, a way for the child to escape the Emperor’s control. If she could learn to love another, and earn his love in return, then the hideous Emperor’s power would be broken.

If not, the child would be doomed to remain a hated and feared beast for all time, hunting down and destroying the Emperor’s enemies.

And the years passed, and the worlds under the Emperor’s control fell into despair and lost all hope.

For who could ever hope to love…a beast?


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BELLE: It's a quiet village. Every day like the one before.

“I don’t like this.” Luke Skywalker looked over at his companion, a Corellian smuggler turned occasional and very reluctant hero for the Rebellion against Palpatine’s Empire, and shifted his legs. It was difficult to find a comfortable position. The two men lay flat on their stomachs on top of a three-story building, their macrobinoculars trained on the low building opposite and the surrounding dirt streets below. The hard, overlapping roof tiles dug into Luke’s skin despite the padded flight suit he wore. But this was the tallest building in the small village of Woolvertown, the smuggling outpost for the planet Diswalt, and thus offered them the best vantage point. “Leia should have finished her negotiations for supplies with the local representatives by now. We need to get back to the Falcon or we’ll miss the transmission with our next rendezvous coordinates.”

“Relax,” Han Solo said. “Leia knows what she’s doing.” But Luke heard the, “I hope,” muttered under Han’s breath. “Besides, we left Goldenrod on the _Falcon_. He’ll handle the transmission if we miss it.”

“If you say so,” Luke said, but he was far from convinced. If only they had an astromech droid who could talk to the _Falcon_ and ensure the coordinates were correct. But the R2 unit who flew with him in the battle of the Death Star didn’t survive the direct blast it took from a TIE fighter, and Luke didn’t feel like bonding with any of the astromechs who succeeded Artoo’s place in his X-Wing. “I still don’t like it.”

Han took the macrobinoculars away from his eyes and turned his head to look at Luke. “You’re not getting one of those spooky feelings of yours, are you?”

“No,” Luke answered. “In fact, I’m not getting much of anything.” It was true. Try as hard as he might, he was picking up very little in the Force. He could sense Han next to him, Han’s thoughts a roiling mixture of anticipation and impatience, tinged with concern for Leia. And he could sense various natives going about their business in the nearby town square. The Diswaltis were an abnormally cheerful species, known throughout the galaxy for their large, round eyes and ever-present smiles. But every time Luke tried to reach out further, it was almost as if he met some sort of invisible barrier.

He sighed. He still had so much to learn about the Force. And now, there was no one left to teach him. When he returned to Dagobah after successfully rescuing Han and Leia from Bespin, it was to find Yoda’s dwelling ripped apart, his gimer stick broken into barely recognizable shards. Any evidence of the Jedi Master’s presence had long faded. Despair clutched at Luke when he recalled Bespin had merely been a ruse to lure him into revealing Yoda’s location. The Emperor’s Beasts had hacked into the X-Wing nav computer Luke thought had been carefully erased and traced his journey backward until they found the Jedi Master’s hiding place.

That was the reason for the ease of their escape from Bespin. Once the Beasts got what they wanted, chasing a small group of ragtag Rebels ceased to be their priority. Even so, Luke knew he still breathed only because the Emperor was obsessed with ensuring that all Old Republic Jedi were erased from the galaxy. A half-trained fledging with no Master to guide him wasn’t much of a prize.

But with Yoda finally located and destroyed, that would change. That was the one thing Luke could definitely feel. The Emperor’s Beasts were about to be unleashed on him.

The Rebellion needed to win this war, and fast.

Han shrugged. “Hey, you said you wanted more than your provincial life on Tatooine. Welcome to it. Waiting on a rooftop, getting duracrete dust all over your clothes.”

“Did you just say ‘provincial?” Luke stared at Han. Leia must really be rubbing off on him. Or at least on his vocabulary.

“Provincial. You know, middle of nowhere, backwater, armpit of the galaxy….” Apparently Han mistook Luke’s surprise for a lack of comprehension.

“Oh, right, armpit. I didn’t know that was the technical term for planets where you spend afternoons getting drunk in cantinas and shooting first.”

“Smart,” Han said, his tone indicating the opposite. “Hey, if you hadn’t left Tatooine, what would you be doing now? Married to some farmer girl, I bet, having babies and sticking popsicles in their mouths when they cry.”

Han’s words conjured an image of Camie, boasting to everyone in Anchorhead how she was going to make Luke Skywalker her husband. Luke shuddered. “No,” he said decisively. “I used to read all the adventure journals I could get my hands on. I knew there must be more to life than moisture farming.”

“Well, you got it,” Han muttered. “C’mon, Leia.”

“I thought you said to relax?”

“You’re not looking, Kid,” Han growled. “To the left. By the open air market. Stormtroopers.”

Luke slammed his pair of macrobinoculars against his eyes, increasing the magnification. Sure enough, very familiar white helmets were bobbing their way through the crowd. He shook his head. Why didn’t he feel their approach? Was there something wrong with the Force? Or with him?

Han had his comlink out. “Chewie? We have company. And they’re not the kind you invite to dinner. Get Her Worshipfulness out of there.”

Through the comlink Luke could hear the Wookie’s whispered roar of understanding. Leia had posed as a slave trader, with Chewbacca as her prize ware, in order to keep her meeting with the Diswalt representatives as secret as possible. The Diswaltis had plenty of money, thanks to several popular resorts known throughout the galaxy for their immersive yet family-friendly fun, but not even a planet full of child-based amusements would be immune from the Emperor’s deadly wrath if he learned they were supporting the rebels. Leia was secreted behind a closed door with no communications devices allowed to avoid the Imperials from picking up any chatter, but Chewie had remained outside to guard the room. And to communicate on a tight relay with Han.

“Maybe it’s just a routine patrol,” Luke offered, but even as he spoke he knew he was wrong. The stormtroopers were marching in a straight line directly to the building that held Leia – and to the building across from it that supported Han and Luke.

“Yeah, and maybe I’ll let you fly the _Falcon_,” Han said. “The troopers are carrying something on their backs – can you tell what it is?”

“No, “ Luke said. “It’s some sort of frame, but I can’t make out the details through the crowd.”

“Han? We’re leaving now,” Leia’s voice came from the comlink speaker.

“Don’t talk, just get out,” Han said tightly. Now they didn’t need macrobinoculars to see empty black eyes in white expressionless faces, moving ever closer to them.

From his vantage point, Luke spotted a rear entrance in the building opposite opening. A petite female figure in space fatigues and a tall, shaggy Wookiee walked outside. “They’re clear.”

“Yeah, I see them,” Han replied. “Okay. The bad guys are heading to the front of Leia’s building. We’ll go out the back of this building, circle around, meet the other two at the prearranged spot. Got it?”

“Of course,” Luke said. There weren’t many other choices of action. He checked to make sure his lightsaber was firmly attached to his belt, close at hand if – when - needed.

Han drew his blaster, held it ready. “Let’s go.”


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BELLE: I want adventure in the great wide somewhere.

Luke gasped. His right hand gingerly explored the edges of the blaster wound that made his left shoulder feel like both suns of Tatooine were blazing inside. He dragged himself further upright, propping his back against the dank, damp wall of the man-sized refuse drain that hid him.

How did they let the fight get away from them so quickly? Luke shut his eyes against the pain and tried to think back, trace what happened. It was as if the stormtroopers could read their very thoughts. No matter where they ran. No matter what diversion they tried. The white armored drones beat them to the punch, blocking their way, herding them with covering fire into a tighter and tighter spot with no possible escape. 

And Luke lost the Force. 

It disappeared just as he needed it the most. He called on it as the stormtroopers approached, but as soon as they came into range, the Force…vanished. The sudden absence shocked him, his mind flailing while all other reflexes ceased. He stood motionless, the perfect target. 

A trooper drew a straight bead on Luke. Han picked off white armored figure before the kill shot went off. The blaster bolt went through the strange contraption the armored soldier wore on his back. The stormtrooper went down. 

The Force flooded back, filling Luke’s senses like a blind man suddenly seeing the sun. But only until the next trooper appeared. It was as if the soldiers carried with them some sort of…bubble…that shut off all contact with the Force.

Luke managed to keep his head the next time his Force sense went dead. He ignited his lightsaber. The trooper stopped short at the sight of the glowing green blade. His hesitation gave Luke just enough time to spot a large drain at the end of the street. The next few minutes were a blur, punctuated by the sound of blaster bolts and the rapid hum of his weapon. He vanquished his opponent, and the Force flowed through him again. Automatically, he reached out to check on Leia, Han and Chewie.

Nothing. They were gone. He couldn’t feel them that all.

In that moment of incomprehension and disbelief, his shoulder exploded in a burst of flame and agony.

He turned, slashed blindly with his lightsaber. The blade caught the bolt aiming for his heart. The trooper sneaking up on his blind side fell, hit by the ricochet. The Force flowed black and Luke didn’t wait for it to vanish again. He leapt for the storm drain, the Force propelling his legs the extra distance needed. He wouldn’t be able to help Han, Leia and Chewie if he were dead.

In the smoke and heat and confusion of the battle, the stormtroopers did not notice his immediate absence. And almost before he could blink, it was all over.

Han, Leia and Chewie stood in the middle of the street, hands on their heads, guarded by one set of troopers while another set put their fallen comrades onto sled carriers. And then Luke’s friends were marched out of his sight. 

Luke tried to move. He couldn’t just sit there. He put out a hand to help lever himself upright but he only fell down. The shock and sheer pain almost made him black out. He stayed conscious through sheer will.

It wasn’t over. He would find them. And rescue them. Just like on Bespin. Even if this time it meant trading his life for theirs. 

Deep, shuddering breaths wracked his chest. He ignored the stench around him, preferring to keep his lungs working. He reached inside himself for calm, serenity. Fear for his friends would not help him, and it would definitely not help them. A pain suppression technique taught to him by Yoda, half remembered, finally cleared enough of his mind to enable him to reach out with his senses. 

Just as he suspected. As the troopers marched away with their captives, the Force returned. 

He still couldn’t feel Han, Leia or Chewie. No doubt it was because they were within the range of whatever it was the troopers carried that pushed the Force away. So he wouldn’t be able to track his friends. 

He could, however, track where the Force wasn’t. And find them that way.

He hoped.

Grimacing, he rose to his feet. The pain suppression helped to keep his mind clear of the every-present throbbing hurt, but it required a lot of his concentration. Too bad Yoda or Ben never taught him how to heal his wounds, if such a thing were even possible. But first things first. He needed a change of clothes, a bacta patch if possible, and information on whoever took his friends.

When he reached the mouth of the drain, he paused. Was the coast clear? But the townspeople were already going about their business, as if it were another quiet day like the one before. Nearby, he could hear a woman haggling with a shopkeeper over eggs, while another wanted to know if the bread was fresh. Aside from a few blaster burns in the duracrete walls and some scuffmarks in the dirt that marked where stormtroopers had fallen, it was if the skirmish never happened. 

There was no sign of Leia’s contacts. The building where Leia met them remained open for business. As far as Luke could tell, no Imperial search party still rummaged around the premises. All was normal. 

Too normal.

In fact, he thought with a frown, the pain still rattling around his head…perhaps the whole meeting had been a set up. Somehow, those troops zeroed right in on them, knew exactly where to locate them and how to cut off all their escapes. 

And they knew he was there. A Force sensitive. They carried something to neutralize him. 

That meant only one thing.

One of Palpatine’s Beasts had found him.

And the Beast had his friends.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BELLE: What is this place?

“Whoa!” Luke pulled gently on reins, and leaned over to pet the pure white neck of his equine mount. What did the Diswalti who loaned the animal to him call her? Jingles? Yes, that was it. “Good girl, Jingles.” At least she smelled much better than a tauntaun.

It had been a long, solitary trek through woods heavily overgrown with tall, dense trees that allowed only slivers of sunlight to pierce their overlapping foliage. Few birds sang or mammals grunted, their noise seemingly absorbed by the thick leaves. Even the clip-clop of Jingles’s hooves on the narrow path was muted.

Luke tried to relax, to stay calm and keep his Force sense open, hoping he would be allowed to glimpse whether his attempt to rescue his friends would end in tragedy or success. But he kept coming up against those same strange Force-free bubbles he encountered during the firefight with the stormtroopers. As soon as he passed through one, another would spring up to take its place. It made the journey uncomfortable, not to mention disorienting.

Finally, the path broke free of the forest and a burst of dazzling late afternoon sunlight nearly blinded him. At the same time the Force flooded back, heightening his senses to an almost painful degree. When he could focus, he saw he had found his destination, just as the Diswalti who loaned him the equine had said.

A large stone castle, some two kilometers distant, rose in the middle of the clearing. A thick wall of polished black stone, as high as ten Wookies standing on each other’s shoulders, surrounded the main hall of the castle, topped with turrets with sharply conical roofs. But what most caught Luke’s eye was the lone tall tower soaring high into sky, capped with another, smaller turret just big enough to contain a single room. He used his macrobinoculars to bring the details into sharper focus. HoloNet transceiver arrays were just visible, crowning the steeply tilted blue tiled roof.

This had to be the lair of the Beast. And it meant the Beast had a direct means of communication with the Emperor. Palpatine surely knew by now that Han, Leia and Chewie were firmly in his reach. Luke knew it was possible, of course, but it came like a kick to the solar plexus to have absolute proof.

A low, long canine howl came from the woods. The equine danced sideways, her dark eyes damp with fear. She tossed her snowy head, causing the bells on her harness to softly chime. “It’s okay,” Luke soothed her, although he felt nothing of the kind.

He had one chance to make this right. One chance to – yet again- get his friends out of a trap that was meant for him. Only this time, he doubted that the Emperor wanted just a location.

He took out his comlink, and keyed it to the frequency Han had assured him was secure and unable to be sliced by any Imperials trying to listen in. “You there?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“I am here, Master Luke, if you are referring to me. Although I am not quite sure what you mean by there. If you mean if I am onboard the _Millennium Falcon_, then I am able to answer in the affirmative.” Threepio’s voice boomed over the comlink’s tinny speaker.

Luke bit back his smile. Even in a crisis, Threepio was….Threepio. “Good. I am activating my comlink’s holorecorder. Stay on this frequency and monitor the image feed. Be ready to bring the _Falcon_ in at any moment. The nav computer should be able to use the images to find a safe place to land.”

“Master Luke, I am programmed for human-cyborg relations. I am not an astromech droid. The idea of having to interface with this ship’s computers!” The horror in Threepio’s voice couldn’t be more apparent.

“You’re fluent in over six million forms of communication, right?” Luke whispered in the comm.

“Of course, Master Luke! But I thought you said the Diswaltis spoke Basic? They might be using the Orlanheim dialect. I am told it can be quite difficult for humans from the Core to understand the difference in vowel pronunciation. But since you are from the Outer Rim you should—“

“So think of the nav computer as yet another language,” Luke said. “Are you telling me you can’t master a simple Corellian freighter’s binary code?”

“Well!” Threepio huffed. He was silent for a minute, a most unusual occurrence in Luke’s experience. “I suppose I can try to remember the most rudimentary communication basics, if I must.”

“So please try.” Luke shook his head. Threepio had complained of the _Falcon_’s onboard computers’ rudeness throughout the entire journey. Luke had a suspicion the ship's systems took their cues from Han when it came to interfacing with Threepio. “Han has a beacon call spliced into the _Falcon_. All you need to do is make sure the ship is ready to receive the signal when Han provides it, and then stays on course. We’re counting on you, Threepio.”

“You’re counting on me, Master Luke? Oh, you won’t regret it! I will ensure that this most recalcitrant rust bucket obeys my every command and—“

Luke shut off the comlink. He’d wasted enough time as it was. He regarded his options. Those smooth polished walls were too high for even a Jedi to jump over. Nor did they appear to have any potential foot- or handholds for climbing. And he doubted storming the castle with just his lightsaber would impress anyone. It would only get him killed.

Another howl from the forest, louder this time. Jingles whinnied, and pawed the ground with her right hoof. She tossed her head, ripping the reins from Luke’s loose grasp.

“Easy, girl!” He reached out a hand to pat her neck, and then made a grab for the fallen reins. Jingles reared high into the air, her front legs pawing at the sky. Caught off balance, Luke slid off the equine’s back, his fall broken by layers of moss and dead vegetation. Jingles took off at a dead run, the reins flapping madly behind her. She disappeared into the forest, the faint chiming of the bells of her harness soon dissipating.

Luke looked up. The sun was quickly disappearing behind the castle’s main hall. He’d been warned that if he ventured into the forest, he needed to find a secure shelter before the last rays of light faded. It seemed Jingles felt the same way, if her sudden flight toward home was any indication.

There was only thing left to do: knock at the castle’s front door and demand his friends be returned. Then Han could use the beacon call, the Falcon would swoop in, and they’d fly away. It was a terrible long shot, but so was hitting the Death Star’s thermal exhaust post.

Hopefully, “Jedi mind tricks” would be enough to at least get him inside so he could search for Han, Leia and Chewie.

Or not, if the inhabitants of the castle had more of those Force bubble things lying around.

Only one way to find out.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHIP: There's a girl in the castle!

“There’s a boy coming to the castle door!” Pottz ran down the steep staircase as fast as her short legs would allow, her purple and pink hair streaming behind. “A boy!” She could scarce believe it. A real, live human boy! And he was walking up to the front door, like a normal person visiting a normal home! She’d never seen anything like it in all her days.

Maybe their luck was changing. Maybe things would be different this time. Maybe--

“Whoa!” K’gworth put out a heavily muscled arm and caught her around her midsection. Pottz let out a grunt. She was amply padded in that area – rotund, some liked to say – but it still knocked the breath out of her. K’gworth released her from his grip and looked down at her, his thick brown eyebrows drawn together in a scornful scowl. “A boy? Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, we already have a boy. And a girl. And a tall hairy…something. The White Workers brought them in. They’re in the dungeon, where they should be. Like every other visitor we’ve ever had.”

“I’m not talking about those three.” Pottz rolled her eyes. “Besides, that boy isn’t the one from the prophecy. He’s already in love with his companion. It’s obvious by how they snipe at each other. But the boy I saw—“

“I don’t have time to listen to whatever tea you’re brewing, Pottz. Back to work with you.” K’gsworth pointed at a nearby tray cart, piled high with dirty plates and glasses. “The Mistress is already in one of her moods. When she sees this--“

“But I’m telling you I saw him!” Pottz stomped her foot, causing the gold metal hat on her head to rattle. “From a window in the stairs to the North Tower. He’s walking by himself, as free as can be. Not a White Worker in sight.”

K’gworth narrowed his gaze and huffed. “And I’m telling you that if you don’t get back to work this minute, you’ll find yourself impaled on the glowing end of a lightsaber. And we don’t want that to happen again, now, do we?” He glared down at her, his bushy handlebar moustache quivering with what he liked to pretend was rage, but Pottz knew was actually concern. She sighed.

“Fine. I’ll take these things to the kitchen and out of the Mistress’s sight.” She rearranged the plates in a less precarious stack and put her hands on the cart’s handle. “But I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so.’”

“Go on with you,” K’gworth said, his tone softer. “And stay away from the North Tower. You know no one is to go up there.”

“Yes, but—“

A loud knock boomed, echoing through the castle’s halls. Pottz stopped moving. A glass fell off the tray cart and shattered on the stone floor. She stared at K’gworth. He stared back, his mouth open and his moustache drooping.

The knock sounded again.

“Well, don’t just stand there!” Looma ran by them, his bright golden hair and skin a yellow blur of motion. “We ‘ave a visitor at the door!”

Pottz and K’gworth exchanged glances once more. Then Pottz sprang into action, racing after Looma. “Wait for me!”

K’gwroth was just a second too late. “No!” he cried. “Do not answer the door! She will doom us forever!” Pottz waited for K’gworth to pass her. Then she launched herself at him. They fell to the ground, Pottz hoping to give Looma enough time to let the boy in.

He was their only hope.

* * *

Luke lifted his hand to knock a third time, feeling a bit silly. The door towered over him, easily ten meters tall, and probably two meters thick. It was ancient in construction. No hydraulics in sight, and definitely no keypad for entry. Perhaps his instincts were wrong and no one lived in the castle. It certainly had an abandoned feel to it.

But then he remembered the HoloNet transceiver arrays, and he knocked again. Harder.

The door suddenly swung open. Luke took a step back. His hand sought the hilt of his lightsaber.

A tall, slender man stood silhouetted in the doorway. “No need to pound on the door, we ‘eard you the first time,” the man said. His accent indicated he originated from the planet Gaulia. “Please, do come in.”

“You will let me inside—wait, what?” Luke put down his lifted hand, and let his index and middle fingers relax. So much for needing Jedi mind tricks.

“But of course you must come inside!” The man stuck his head out, looked up at the sky, then at Luke. “It will soon be dark, no?” He shooed Luke past the doorway and shut the heavy, old door behind him.

“No,” Luke murmured. “I mean, yes.” He couldn’t stop looking around him. The receiving gallery in which he stood was one of the largest he’d seen. Only the ceremonial hall on Yavin 4, where Leia had given him his medal, rivaled it for size. And it was so ornate! Vibrant tapestries depicting unknown flora and fauna unfurled for meters down walls of the same polished black stone he noticed on the castle exterior. The stone continued underfoot, causing his boots to echo with every step. The ceiling soared high overhead, so high he could scarce make out where it began. Stained glass windows let in what little light remained outside.

“It’s not much, but we call it ‘ome.” The slender man waved his arms, and the illumination in the hall increased. Luke got his first real look at his companion. The man was taller than Luke, but far more slender, with long gangly legs and arms. His hair shone a bright pale yellow, lighter than Luke’s had been during Tatooine summers, while his skin also had a faint golden sheen. If Threepio were human, Luke thought, he might look something like this.

The man clapped his hands together. “Ah! But where are my manners! I am Looma, at your service.” He bowed from his waist.

A small, round woman and a squat, heavily muscled man ran into the hall. “See! I told you so, K’gworth!” the woman exclaimed, and she bounded over to Luke. She held out a small hand to shake, her skin as smooth as Aunt Beru’s treasured porcelain caf cup and nearly as translucent. After a stunned moment, Luke shook it. She giggled. “I knew you’d be here! I knew it!”

K’gwroth did not seem nearly as pleased to see Luke as Pottz, nor as welcoming as Looma. His arms were crossed and he looked like he wanted nothing more than to throw Luke back into the forest. “You know who will not like this,” he said, his voice quivering with anger. “You shouldn’t have let him in. This is bad. This is very bad.”

“Now see ‘ere!” Looma erupted.

“But he could be the answer!” Pottz exclaimed.

The three began to argue amongst themselves, so loud and so fast that Luke couldn’t keep up. Nor did he want to. Han, Leia and Chewie were in this castle. He could feel them, Leia especially. They were confined, but otherwise unharmed. He edged away from the arguing trio, following his friends’ presence in the Force.

Pottz spotted him first. “He’s leaving! Stop him!” The three turned as if one and advanced on Luke.

Luke lifted his hand, his fingers outreached. “You will take me to the three prisoners.”

Pottz stopped short. “Wait. You want to go to the dungeons? Really?” She sounded as if she wanted to cry.

Luke tried again. “Take me to the prisoners.” Something was off. He could feel the Force, so he couldn’t blame it on one of those bubbles. But when he reached for their minds, all he got was…static.

Looma shook his head. “No, no, monsieur, you do not want the dungeons. They are, ‘ow do you say…nasty. I will make you up a very nice room, very comfortable.”

K”gworth stepped in front of his colleagues, a sharp gleam in his gaze. “The dungeons? Well, why didn’t you say so? Follow me.”

* * *

##### Interlude

High above the castle, in the small room at the very top of the North Tower, a cloaked figure bowed before a flickering image of a wizened but powerful presence.

“I beg pardon for interrupting my Master when he has not called to me first, but I bring news that might please His Eminence.”

“Rise, my child, and do not fear. You bring me news of young Skywalker, do you not?” The Emperor cackled, his glee bouncing off the stone walls.

The head deep within the cloak nodded. “He is here, my Master. Just as you foresaw.”

The Emperor grinned, a most gruesome sight. “You have done well to lure him to your home, little Beast. Now keep him there until I arrive.”

* * *

Looma wasn’t kidding about the dungeons and their state of nastiness. Luke tried to breath through his mouth, but he still caught whiffs of odors foul and unpleasant. He tried blocking out his surroundings with the Force before he realized it was the Force itself that was wrong. It was tainted here. Dank. Murky. Just like that cave infused with the dark side on Dagobah where he saw himself kneeling at the Emperor’s side, a jeweled collar around his neck. He tasted bile at the back of his throat, and struggled to keep his focus centered and calm.

K’gworth led the way, apparently unaffected by the dark tendrils that snaked around and through everything in this horrible place. Pottz and Looma followed behind, bitterly complaining about K’gworth and his highhanded manner. The group turned a corner and Luke snatched his lightsaber from his belt, igniting it with a snap-hiss.

But the stormtroopers in front of him didn’t react. They remained in the same positions they held when Luke first spotted them: lined up against the wall, arms at their side and legs straight.

“Look!” Pottz nudged Looma. “The boy has a lightsaber!” A large grin lit her round face. “It’s a sign!”

Looma shrugged, but his gaze was shrewd. “We shall see, mon amie. We shall see.”

Luke disregarded them. He walked over to the nearest stormtrooper, waved his hand in front of the black eyeholes. Nothing. “Is this where they store their armor?” he asked K’gworth.

K’gworth started to nod, but Pottz jumped in. “Oh, we turn off the White Workers at night.”

Luke turned on his heels to face her. “The what?”

“The White Workers.” She jerked a thumb at the stormtroopers. “These guys. No use wasting good power packs at night, when no one leaves their homes after sunset. So we turn them off.”

“Wait. Are you trying to tell me these stormtroopers are…droids?” Luke could barely wrap his brain around the concept. The stormtroopers he encountered previously were human. He knew that. He even wore stolen armor once.

On the other hand, if the troopers in Woolvertown’s market square had been droids, it made him feel a lot better about the ones he took down with his lightsaber. He hated the thought of killing another being. Yet he was responsible for the deaths of millions, thanks to a one in a million shot. It didn’t make for the most restful sleep.

Pottz drew herself up to her most indignant height. “They are most certainly not droids!” she said. “They’re animatronics.”

“Anima-what?”

K’gwroth shook his head. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s put him in the dungeon with his friends, then we can all retire for a nice peaceful night.”

“Animatronics,” Pottz said, ignoring Looma tugging on her arm. “Although when I stop to think about it, the White Workers are more like pure ‘tronics. So I guess you're right. They're similiar to droids because they don’t have animas, like us.” She waved at herself and her two companions.

“Pottz!” K’gworth exploded. “We don’t have time! Now, come along. This way, this way.”

Luke wanted to question Pottz more, but he could feel Leia’s presence, growing stronger. She and the others were very close. This rescue mission was one of the strangest he had ever attempted, but so far it was also one of the least complicated.

  
They just had to get out of dungeons, board the_ Falcon_, and leave Diswalt behind. Easy.

And maybe Han would indeed let him fly the _Falcon_ one day.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BELLE: We have to get you out of here.

K’gworth shoved Luke into the dungeon cell. The door shut behind him with a heavy, definitive thump. Luke went flying, his boots searching for but not finding purchase on the thick, slippery floor. Judging by the smell, he didn’t want to know what was decomposing down there. He collided with something very solid, very warm and very hairy. Chewbacca grunted at the impact and held Luke upright, but not before he caught a mouthful of Wookiee fur.

“Luke!” Leia exclaimed. She ran to him and spun him around, her gaze sweeping over him. “What happened to you? When we realized you weren’t captured with us, we feared the worst.” Her fingers brushed over the charred edges of the hole in the shoulder of his flight suit. “You’re hurt?”

“A farmer on the edge of the town gave me a bacta patch. I’m fine.” It was mostly true. The blaster wound was a mere throb instead of a screaming pain. “But are you three okay? Your hands are like ice, Leia.”

Leia nodded. “Cold, but not a scratch. The stormtroopers rounded us up and marched us here. They locked us in and have left us alone ever since.” Her dark eyes shone in her pale face, just visible in the dim light coming from a narrow, barred window set in the wall high above their heads. Through it, Luke could see a few stars start to make their appearance in the evening sky.

What he wouldn’t give to be out there among them.

“Hey Kid.” Han clapped his hand on Luke’s good shoulder. “So how do you plan on getting us out, now that you got yourself locked in?

Luke held up the hilt of his unlit lightsaber. K’gworth had taken it from him and handed it to Pottz before shoving Luke into the cell, but she didn’t secure it. Luke called it to him with the Force as the door shut. He had a feeling Pottz wouldn’t tell.

A slow smile spread across Han’s face. “I like how your mind works,” he said.

Luke ignited the lightsaber, its icy blue glow illuminating the small cell. He could see for himself that his friends were indeed unhurt, albeit covered by new layers of grime. He moved to the southern wall. If the map of the castle he drew in his head as K’gworth led him to the dungeons was correct, this wall should lead to the outside.

“Do you still have your comlink?” he asked Han. His plan was going to go up in a wisp of smoke if Han didn’t.

“Yeah. They took my blaster, of course, but I managed to hide the comm. I haven’t been able to get a signal, however.” Han pulled it out. “Why?”

Luke exhaled. “I have Threepio standing by to bring in the _Falcon_ with the beacon call once we get clear.”

Han and Chewie exchanged looks. Luke didn’t like the expressions that crossed both their faces. He crossed his arms.

“I don’t need the Force to know what you are thinking,” he said, “but what alternatives do we have? The _Falcon_ is docked hundreds of kilometers away at the spaceport. If the Empire is looking for us, we won’t be able to rent a speeder. And we can’t make it on foot. The Diswaltis don’t leave their homes at night. Something about the forests not being safe.”

“He’s right, Han,” Leia said. “The _Falcon_ has to come here.”

Han’s mouth moved but no noises came out. Finally, he managed to form words. “Goldenrod? You believe that useless bundle of circuits will be able to fly my ship? Are you nuts?”

“I thought you liked how my mind works,” Luke said.

“The moving objects part I like. The thinking part has problems. Big ones.” Han’s mouth continued to open and close, like a Mon Calimari trapped on Tattoine during a sand storm. Chewie rumbled next to him, his growls unsure and suspicious.

“It’ll be fine. At least Luke had a plan before he came in here, which is more than we had before,” Leia said. She touched her hand to Han’s arm, and then pulled it away when he glanced down at it. “Besides,” she said with a lift of a regal eyebrow, “the Alliance will pay for any damages, so that should take care of your concerns, Captain Solo.” She turned to Luke. “First things first. Let’s get out of here.”

“I’m right on it.” Luke positioned the tip of the lightsaber blade against the wall and began to cut.

Or at least, that was his intent.

The blade willingly went into the first few centimeters of stone.

But then it…sputtered out. There was no other way to describe it. A few fizzling sparks, and the lightsaber turned itself off.

“What’s wrong with it?” Leia asked, her voice sharp.

“I don’t know,” Luke confessed. “It’s never done that before.” He ignited the blade again. The weapon hummed and glowed as usual. With a wrinkled nose, Luke lifted something unrecognizable off the refuse on the floor. He threw it into the air, and the blade cleanly and swiftly cut it in half.

He tried the wall again. But no go. Sputter, and automatic shut off. “It’s not the lightsaber. It must be something in the stone.”

Leia’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t suppose you have a Plan B?”

Chewie let out a series of short staccato roars, and Han nodded. “What about the door?” Han asked. “We’ll have to go through the castle, but that’s the way you came in. Hopefully you know the way out.”

Luke walked over to the cell door. He didn’t relish prolonging his stay in the castle, but at least the door wasn’t made of stone. He ignited the lightsaber once more, and started to cut through the layers of steel.

HISSS-shh! The blade sparked, jumped and disappeared, the feedback causing Luke to drop the hilt. Whatever was in the stone was also in the door, only there was more of it.

“Great. Just great,” Han muttered. “Plan C, anyone?”

Luke picked up his weapon and tried to wipe the slimy residue from the floor off it as best he could. He could feel the others’ disappointment, but his own emotions were even darker. This was a cell meant to hold a Jedi, he realized. Or to keep a Jedi out. There was no other explanation for why it was lined with some sort of material that neutralized lightsabers.

The dark side corruption he felt earlier pressed at him, whispering in his ear, igniting an aching burn in his heart. _Be angry. Be afraid. This is your fault. You’re the one the Emperor’s Beast wants, not them. And now they will die, horribly, painfully. Because of you—_

“Boy?” A concealed narrow slot in the middle of the cell door suddenly slid open. “Are you still there, boy?”

“Pottz?" Luke bent down until he could see her.

She smiled and clapped her hands together. “There you are! Now, are you quite done with the dungeons?”

“You better say yes,” Han said.

“Very done,” Luke agreed.

The door to the cell swung open. Pottz stood before them, a large ring of keys clutched tight in her hands. “Let’s go, spit spot,” she said.

She walked quickly, leading the small party through the dungeon’s winding corridors, up the narrow stairs, and back to the main gallery. Luke felt as if he could take his first real, deep breath in hours. The dark voices faded, their words forgotten.

“I finally realized that you wanted to be in the dungeons because of the other three,” Pottz confided to Luke. “So I figured that if I moved the others, you would move, too.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Luke said. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Han had his comlink out and was speaking softly into it.

“Oh, ‘twas nothing,” Pottz said, a pink blush on her pale cheeks. “So, now can I take you to your real room? It’s much nicer than the dungeons, I promise.” She tugged Luke’s hand, trying to lead him to the grand staircase that led to the upper floors.

Luke stood his ground. “Pottz, we’re leaving,” he said gently. “We have to go. I truly appreciate all your help, but I can’t stay.”

She stared at him, her lavender eyes wide and unblinking. “But you’re the boy!” she said. “I know you are. You’re the one we’re waiting for.”

Luke shook his head. “I’m not anything,” he said. “I’m just a moisture farmer from Tatooine.” A moisture farmer capable of wiping out an entire battle station the size of a moon with one torpedo, he thought uneasily, and then quashed it. He was still feeling the strain from the…whatever it was…deep in the dungeons. He motioned at Leia, who was watching him closely with a thoughtful look in her dark gaze, and moved toward the large entry door. Han and Chewie beat him to it.

“No!” Pottz cried. “You need to meet the mistress first.” She held onto Luke with a surprisingly strong grip.

A whooshing noise assaulted their ears, and then bright halogen lights lit up the outside night sky as if it were noon.

“That’s my girl,” Han said, and he threw open the main door with a major assist from Chewbacca.

A stunned Pottz loosened her grip on Luke enough for him to break free. He raced outside to see the _Falcon_ doing lazy oblongs in the sky, one side of the ship higher than the other.

“Shavit!” Han exclaimed. “Goldenrod did something to the stabilizers.” He threw the comlink at Chewie, who caught it with a graceful paw. “Talk to the _Falcon_’s computers, see if you can calm the systems down and undo the damage.” He waved his arms at the ship, as if it could see him and respond. And maybe it could, Luke thought. Force knew he still missed the connection he had with Artoo.

Pottz drew near and stood slack-jawed at his side. “How pretty,” she said. Luke gave her a sideways glance. “No wonder those two are so in love,” she said, indicating Han and Chewie who now has their heads together and were both talking into the comlink. “They share such a beautiful ship.”

Leia glanced at Pottz. Her eyebrows rose higher than Luke had ever seen them, but she didn’t say anything.

The _Falcon_ eventually straightened out and started to drift toward the ground, landing repulsors engaged and the boarding ramp lowered. Luke felt his shoulders relax. For once, an escape worked as planned. Who ever would have thought such a thing possible?

Chewie reached the ramp first, using his Wookiee height and strength to pull himself on board. He grabbed Han, who quickly disappeared into the ship. Probably to throw Threepio out of the cockpit, Luke thought. Leia stood by, her posture straight and outward manner serene as always, ready for the boarding ramp to be low enough for her to reach Chewbacca’s hand.

Pottz’s gaze remained fixed on the _Falcon_. “Bye, Pottz,” Luke said. He brushed her smooth cheek with his lips in a farewell kiss. “Thanks again.” He walked to Leia’s side and waited for his opportunity to jump into the ship.

The lightning hit him hard. Sharp, piercing, a thousand volt jolt to a frail human system. Nerve endings flared, frayed. Synapses burned. His Force sense screamed the hardest of all. Luke fought through the pain and disorientation. He threw himself over Leia, shielding her as best as he could from the attack. He forced his eyes open to narrow slits, saw long brunette locks escaped from their practical coiled braids and a cowering Pottz, kneeling with her forehead prone on the ground. He managed to regain enough control of his body to turn his head, trace the lightning to its source.

A cloaked figure, dark, ominous, malevolent. Glowing gold eyes, deep inside a shadowed hood. Crackling dark side energy, pouring from outstretched fingers. Slender, delicate fingers. The words appeared in his brain from nowhere, exhausting what little conscious thought Luke still possessed.

“Taking my guests away without being properly introduced to their host? What bad manners you have, Just a Farmer from Tatooine.” The voice was low, throaty and full of promised menace.

The voice of the Beast.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BELLE: Please, I'll do anything.

The dark side attack ceased as suddenly as it had started. Luke blinked, his heavy eyelids scratching against dry corneas, and struggled to pull air into his lungs. He reached out through the Force for Leia and found her mostly unharmed, just stunned and bruised. He’d born the brunt of the attack. He rolled to the side and off the Princess, unable to do much more. Leia coughed, and pulled herself to her hands and knees. She began crawling toward the _Falcon_, still hovering in the air before them.

Luke felt more than saw the Beast, the cloak swishing as she approached. “I don’t think so,” the husky voice said.

The Beast’s slender fingers twitched and Leia fell flat on her stomach, pinned to the ground. Chewbacca roared. Han raced down the _Falcon_’s boarding ramp.

“Leia!” Han cried, and aimed the blaster in his hand at the Beast. But before he could fire, his wrist twisted, abnormally so. The blaster flew into the woods beyond. Han swore and tucked his hurt hand under his other arm, a grimace etched deep in his face.

Another wave of the Beast’s fingers and the _Falcon_ began to shimmy in the air, swooping dangerously from side to side. Han fell, slid on the ramp's smooth surface. Chewbacca made a desperate grab for a ramp strut and hung on. He then caught Han by his foot before Han could tumble off the edge.

“Stop,” Luke croaked. He reached for his lightsaber, but the Beast crooked a finger. It flew into the Beast’s hand, and then disappeared into the voluminous cloak. Luke struggled to his feet, swallowing back the nausea that threatened to overtake him and held his hands out to show that he was unarmed. “Please. Stop.”

The Beast slowly pivoted toward him. The deep hood cast a thick shadow over the Beast’s features but it could not conceal the feral yellow eyes, glowing with hostility. “But they are my prisoners. Rebel traitors to the Emperor.”

The Beast's fingers moved once more. The_ Falcon_ appeared to be buffeted by winds approaching solar force.

Luke swallowed, his mouth devoid of moisture. He pushed aside the hatred and aggression he sensed swirling maliciously in the atmosphere, and reached deep inside for calm as his Masters had taught him. He didn’t dare try to touch the Beast’s mind. The power the Beast displayed was far beyond anything Ben or Yoda had taught him. His skills, such as they were, would be no match. Still, he put all of his conviction and strength into his words. “I’m the one the Emperor wants. You don’t need them. Let them go.”

The glittering gold gaze turned on him. The rage in its depths still lingered but it was joined by wary surprise. “Are you offering to take their place?”

He nodded, even as impressions flashed through his mind. The dismal dungeons, the damp penetrating to his bones and the stench that never grew weaker. Seeing the stars only through a small, high window, and to journey among them only in memory. His thoughts skittered away before they could imagine what would happen once he was in the Emperor’s control. He would deal with that when the time came. He repeated, “I’m the one the Emperor wants. Not them.”

The hooded figure moved closer to Luke, so close that he could see the rich texture of shimmering black cloak. The uncanny yellow gaze narrowed and swept over him, as if searching for something only the Beast could detect. Finally, the Beast’s head inclined. “I’ll agree to a trade. They can go. But only if you promise to stay here.” The hood bent forward, and he shivered as warm breath hit his cheek. “Forever,” the Beast said low into his ear.

Luke swallowed, his throat aching, but kept his voice steady. “I promise. But they must go. Now. And Imperial forces will not pursue them.” He met the glittering gold gaze with a steady one of his own.

The Beast’s features remained in shadow, but Luke received the distinct impression that the Beast…smiled. The cloaked figure turned away, breaking the connection between their gazes. Luke gasped at the loss, for that was what it felt like.

The Beast raised slender fingers and Leia was on her feet, dazed and disoriented. Another sweep of the Beast’s hands and the _Falcon_ stopped its twisting dance, covering the last dozen meters to gracefully land next to the castle. Chewbacca let go of the strut and ran inside the ship, no doubt to check how many systems had undoubtedly failed.

Han rose, unsteady on his feet, and sprinted down the boarding ramp to draw a waiting Leia into his arms. Luke watched, the ache in his heart increasing with every beat of his pulse, as she closed her eyes and moved deeper into Han’s embrace. They stood together on the ramp, foreheads touching. Luke carved the image into his memory, for he knew it would be the last sight he would have of his two best friends.

A mechanical jerk, and the boarding ramp started its slow ascent back into the ship. Han and Leia broke apart. They scrambled, falling toward the ship’s main cabin, as gravity did its work.

“Luke!” Leia shouted. “Where are you? LUKE!”

“KID!” Han echoed.

“It’s okay,” Luke called to them through lips numb and stiff. “I’ll be fine. Take care of yourselves—“

The boarding ramp closed. Luke heard the hydraulics lock, seal. The _Falcon_’s repulsors roared to life and the ship lifted into the air. It circled over the castle. Luke thought he caught a glimpse of Threepio, his golden face just visible through the cockpit transparisteel. He raised a hand in farewell. Then the _Falcon_ shot over the treetops and disappeared into the starry horizon beyond.

The Beast’s arms lowered. “Done.” The hood turned toward him. “I have upheld my end. Now it is your turn. But be warned. If you betray our bargain, you will regret it. Painfully.”

“I gave you my word,” Luke said, crossing his arms tightly across his chest

“The word of a farmer.” The Beast’s scorn could not be more evident. Then the Beast turned to Pottz, still cowering on the grass. “You. We will speak. Now.”

Pottz mumbled something inaudible and got up to her feet, following the Beast inside the castle.

Luke kept his gaze on the nighttime sky. “No,” he said to the stars. “Not just the word of a farmer. The word of Jedi.” He sat down on the ground and closed his eyes, letting the pain, exhaustion and sheer weight of what he agreed to pull him into a deep, unconscious hole.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BEAST: The castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you wish, except the West Wing.

Bright sunlight assaulted Luke’s face. For a minute, he thought he was back in his bed on Tatooine, late to help Uncle Owen on the South Ridge and about to catch all Nine Corellian Hells for it. A cleared throat and an uttered, “Ahem,” told him otherwise. He forced his eyes open and saw Looma, standing at the foot of the bed with an enormous tray covered with all sorts of platters and dishes.

“’Allo,” Looma said. Luke sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and Looma put the tray down. It reached across the width of the bed, which was practically big enough to hold a dewback.

“I proudly present to you…your breakfast,” Looma said, with a bow. “Try the grey stuff, it’s delicious.”

Luke had no idea which dish held the grey stuff. He grabbed a piece of ryshcate and looked around the room, getting his first real look at his surroundings.

He was in a bedroom, that much was apparent. A very luxurious and beautifully appointed bedroom. The mattress was softer than anything he had ever encountered – ever imagined, for that matter. The bedclothes were of a finely woven red shimmersilk, while the pillows stayed cool to the touch. On the walls hung tapestries, like the ones he spotted in the hall downstairs. They appeared to be part of a series, telling a story about a man on an equine who fell in love with a woman trapped in a castle much like the one Luke was in. In the last tapestry, the man fought something that resembled a Krayt dragon to free her. Between the tapestries stood tall windows, the source of the sunlight that woke Luke.

“What am I doing here?” Luke asked. He had a sudden realization, and glanced under the covers to confirm it. “And may I have some clothes, please?”

“But of course,” Looma said, throwing open a cupboard that stood in the far corner. “Help yourself. Be our guest.” He pulled out a sky blue tunic and sand-colored trousers. “These will do nicely, n’est pas? The color, it will match your eyes and create the most wonderful impression.” He clapped his hands together, his eyes shining.

“If you say so,” Luke said, with a sideways glance. He couldn’t think of a reason why he’d need to create an impression. Leia was long gone. Besides, he had started to think of Leia as a, well, sister just before Bespin. “And this room? Why aren’t I in the dungeons?”

Looma dropped the clothes on the bed. “But the dungeons are nasty. This has already been established, no? Do you want to be in the dungeons?” He gave Luke a most most suspicious stare.

“No, of course not—“

Looma’s expression cleared up. “Ah. Good. Because if you did, then you would not be wise. And you would not smell nice. It was bad enough that we ‘ad to carry you in last night, like a drunk who stayed too late in the tavern.” Looma turned another suspicious eye on Luke. “You do not drink, do you? You are not, as they say, a sot?”

A laugh escaped Luke. “I drink on occasion, but I am not a sot.”

Looma relaxed again. “Then all is well. I would ‘ate to have another unfortunate situation on our ‘ands, like that ‘orrible Gaston. He was definitely not the one.”

Luke opened his mouth to ask a question, and then thought better of it. He looked around the impressive bedroom, at the tray laden with enormous quantities of food, and at the very nicely tailored garments. Whatever was going on, it was obvious he wasn’t been treated as a hated prisoner. At least, not on the surface. “I’m going to get dressed, Looma.”

“That is a marvelous idea.” The tall slender man made as if to turn back the covers and help Luke out of the bed.

Luke grabbed the shimmersilk coverlet and kept it tucked tightly around him. “I mean by myself.” A thought occurred to him. “Unless…you’re my guard?”

Looma’s eyes widened. “But no! I am your ‘umble servant.”

A servant? Luke spoke firmly. “I don’t need a servant, Looma. But I wouldn’t mind a guide to the rest of the castle. After I get dressed. Alone.”

* * *

The rest of the castle was as impressive as Luke’s bedroom. Room after room of expensive furniture and priceless artifacts and gleaming, golden surfaces or soft, feather filled appointments. If the Alliance could get its hands on the castle’s contents, Luke thought, they’d never, ever have to worry about funding the Rebellion again.

Then his heart sank, for he was in the home of one of the Emperor’s Beasts, and so all this wealth belonged to Palpatine.

Of the Beast, there was no sign. When he asked Looma, the slender man’s face seemed to darken, like a flame suddenly cut off from oxygen. “The Beast, as you say…is otherwise engaged,” was all Luke could get out of him. Then Looma’s face brightened. “But there is always dinner. Yes, dinner might suit very well!”

Luke, having just sat through a lunch packed with twice as much food as breakfast, didn’t want to think about another meal just then.

During their tour, Luke saw K’gworth from a distance, his moustache bristling and his back ramrod straight. But there was no sign of Pottz. He mentioned it to Looma, who looked at Luke with an unreadable expression in his eyes and shook his head. “Perhaps another day,” he said quietly, and threw open another door. “And ‘ere, we ‘ave the….Blue Sitting Room!” Then he took a closer look. “Ah, no, my mistake. And ‘ere, we ‘ave the…Aquamarine Salon!” He shrugged. “We ‘ave a lot of rooms.”

“I can tell,” Luke murmured. Late afternoon sunshine was beginning to stream through the windows, throwing long shadows against the walls. There was still a lot more castle to explore, but it already felt like a long day. He’d held at bay the loneliness and just plain homesickness that swept over him whenever he thought of Han, Leia and Chewie – even Threepio – but he didn’t know if he could hold out against the growing sense of loss much longer. Time to meditate, perhaps. Step into the flow of the Force and let it wash over him, become one with him.

And perhaps the Force would tell him if he made the right bargain, or a very, very stupid and foolish one.

“I’d like to go back to my room,” Luke said. “Rest up.”

“But only until dinner, no?” Looma asked, his eyebrows raised high.

Luke sighed. Truthfully, although he did appreciate Looma’s company, he was becoming a bit weary of his constant chatter. A quiet night had its appeal. But Looma looked so hopeful, Luke hated to disappoint him. “Dinner. Sure.”

Halfway back to his room, Luke lost the trail and turned left. He started to climb a narrow, dusty staircase. Looma grabbed him, hard, and forced him back to the landing. “Never go to the North Tower,” Looma said, his gaze glowing fiercely. “Never.”

“Okay, okay,” Luke said, taking a step back. He’d thought Looma was the easygoing type, but obviously the man had a deep inner fire. “It was an honest mistake. Continue leading on.”

Looma relaxed, and resumed his usual inconsequential chatter. But Luke noted the location of the stairway, and added it to his mental map of the castle.

* * *

_Emperor cackles pain terrible pain give into anger feel the aggression join me or die killer of millions what’s a few billion more souls crying in agony despair so deep despair rage pick up your weapon give into hatred wait look hooded figure face in shadow gold eyes burn no not gold eyes green eyes flicker hope--_

Luke came out of his meditation, gasping. He pushed hair matted with sweat off his forehead, his lungs taking in air as fast as he could provide it for them. The shadows still pressed at his mind, seeking to worm their way into his waking consciousness, but he reached down deep for what peace he could find and expelled them.

Usually meditation centered him, gave him strength and optimism. The Force was a source of beneficial energy and guidance. When he meditated, it felt like bathing in pure light.

But on this planet, and especially in this castle, that pureness eluded him. He didn’t know if it had something to do with those strange bubbles in the Force, or the voices he heard in the dungeons, or the very presence of the Beast – but his usual harmonious connection was broken.

He rubbed his eyes and noticed that the bedroom was still and dark. The sun had long set, if the bright stars he could see through the window were any indication. His stomach rumbled, something Luke thought would be physically impossible after the earlier meals. How long did his meditation last?

“Looma?” he called.

No answer.

“Pottz?” he said hopefully.

Nothing.

“K’gworth?” he ventured after a few minutes.

Silence.

“Beast?”

His only answer was the sound of his own breathing, still raspy and erratic.

Luke rose from his seated position on the floor and walked to the door. It pushed open with the slightest touch. So he wasn’t being locked in. Good. He stepped across the threshold, and almost ran into a tray cart piled high with various foodstuffs. Well, at least he wouldn’t starve as a “guest” of the Beast, he thought.

A small datapad hung on the side of the cart. The note on its screen read, “You missed dinner. That was not very wise. Are you sure you are not a sot who sleeps all day? P.S. You really must try the grey stuff.”

Luke gave a short laugh and pulled the cart inside the room. Great. He hoped when they continued their tour of castle, Looma would show him a gym. He needed some way to work off all this food. Especially since it seemed he had no companions to help him eat it.

And this was only day one.

Life in this strange castle was…lonely. And boring. Sure, he had nice clothes and luxurious surroundings and all the fine food he could eat. But it made his – what did Han call it? - provincial life on Tatooine look positively exciting. Back on his uncle’s farm, he could always sneak away by claiming he had to pick up new power convertors. Then he’d use his T-16 to target womp rats.

And that was before he had a taste of flying X-Wings and rescuing princesses and blowing up space stations.

Okay, he could do without having a taste of the last one.

But that was also before he discovered the Force. And started his Jedi training. A training to which he had a responsibility.

It was true he promised the Beast not to escape.

But he didn’t promise to stop advancing his Jedi skills. Or to stop the fight against the Empire. He couldn’t allow the Emperor to let the Jedi become wholly extinct.

The Beast was the Emperor’s agent. So taking out the Beast – assuming he could find a way to get past all that dark side power - would be fair play. And if the Beast were no longer around, then he would no longer be bound to his promise to stay here.

Right?

Well. Only from a certain point of view. And it wasn’t a point of view with which Luke felt comfortable. It was a slippery moral slope, and not one he felt like sliding down.

Still, he wished he had his lightsaber. He could at least practice his katas to pass the time, not to mention burning off some of the food. Perhaps the Beast would give it back to him?

And maybe Threepio would learn to speak in words of less than three syllables.

But…what if he recovered his lightsaber from wherever the Beast put it, and used it just for exercise. What would be the harm?

He didn’t need to be Admiral Ackbar to know he was embarking on a very dangerous strategy. But desperate times, desperate measures, and all that. Besides, while something screamed at him to spare the Beast, his every instinct told him to use his time in the castle to find out anything and everything he could about the Emperor and his plans.

He nodded his head, once. He would look for his lightsaber. Which meant venturing into the Beast’s lair, because he doubted the Beast would just leave weapons lying around the castle for him to stumble over.

And if he happened to discover information that would be useful to the Rebellion, well, so much the better. He’d worry about transmitting it to them later. As Leia said, first things first.

There was only place where that lair might be.

Luke crept out of his room, and made his way to the North Tower stairs.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BELLE: This is impossible.

K’gworth balled his hands into fists. The Azure Dining Room was, to put it bluntly, a disaster. For one, it was no longer azure, but brown and green and red and berry colored.

“You!” He whirled around and pointed at Looma, standing behind him. “It is all your fault!”

Looma threw up his hands. “My fault? I beg to disagree. I did not throw the plates or overturn the table.”

“You! You, you, you….Gaullian!” K’gworth sputtered. Then he stopped. His head was growing dangerously hot. If he wasn’t careful, he would blow his top and then there would be two of them out of commission. He quickly ran a biofeedback exercise designed to calm his inner workings. “You,” he said in a softer voice, “did not roust our guest for dinner. And now look what happened!”

Looma shrugged. “’umans, they need to sleep, no? And they need to eat. There will be another dinner, I 'ave no doubt.”

K’gworth swept his gaze around the destroyed room once more. “I thought the boy was a bad idea. After that idiot Gaston, why risk another horrible incident? And the boy was safe in the dungeons, you know. The Mistress never goes into the dungeons.”

Looma opened his mouth to speak, an indignant look on his face.

K’gworth cut him off with a shake of his head. “But you were right to try. It’s getting worse,” he said quietly, indicating the smashed dishes and the food dripping down the walls. “Soon there will be no humanity left in the Mistress. And when that is gone..."

Looma’s shoulders fell, and his expression lost its usual good humor. “I know, mon ami. I know.”

They stood together for a moment in silence, K’gworth aware that Looma’s thoughts were as darkly anxious as his own.

But they weren’t devoid of all hope yet. Time to dwell on the dreary future when – if – it arrived. K’gworth clapped his hands together. “All right then, no need to borrow more trouble than we need to right this very minute. Get the mop and pail.”

“Mop and pail? Moi?” Looma crossed his arms and looked down on K’gworth from his considerably taller height.

“Well, Pottz ain’t about to do it. Get moving!” K’gworth made a shooing motion.

“So activate a White Worker!” Looma exclaimed. “They ‘ave nothing better to do! Besides, 'worker,' it is in their name!"

“I don’t want to hear any more lip out of you,” K’gworth said. He put his balled fists on his hips. “Or shall I inform the Mistress that you are refusing your duties?”

Looma’s golden skin took on a sickly pallor. “Now, now, no need to be so ‘asty.” He shuddered.

K’gworth decided to take pity on him. “Oh, fine, I’ll get the mop and pail. Perhaps you’d be more comfortable with the feather duster?”

The sudden grin that lit Looma’s face made K’gworth smile. But only for the moment.

They had work to do. And it looked like they might be doomed to do it forever, if the boy wasn't the one.

* * *

Luke coughed and held back a sneeze. The dust was everywhere. It settled in his nose and his throat and his lungs. The rest of the castle was impeccably clean, but it was obvious no one used the North Tower stairs.

Well, no one but the Beast. He could feel the dark side here, pressing at him, the tendrils seeking to invade and destroy his inner peace. He took a deep, steadying breath to center himself – and almost choked on the grit in the air.

The tower went up and up, the stairs a dizzying spiral that looped ever higher. Every so often, a small window would allow in moonlight, giving Luke enough illumination by which to navigate. Still, he was thankful he had the Force as a sixth sense to help guide his feet on the worn, narrow steps.

Just as his legs began to protest they could climb no more, he spotted an old, wooden door on the landing above him. It stood halfway open, a cold, flicking blue light spilling from it.

Moving as silently as he could, hiding his presence in the Force as Master Yoda had taught him, Luke crept up the remaining flight and behind the door. Hidden by its width, he slowly peeked around the edge.

At first, he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. This was how the Beast lived? When there was a castle of unimaginable luxury below this tower, just there begging to be inhabited?

A pallet for a bed, scarcely more than a half-stuffed straw mattress placed on hard, unyielding floor. The Beast’s cloak hung on a hook on the wall next to it. No other decoration – not even a chair, or a mirror, or a painting to break up the bleak monotony.

He recognized the deep score marks on the walls, dozens and dozens of them, as the work of a lightsaber blade. It looked as if the Beast tried to duel with the very stones and lost, every time. No wonder, he thought, that the castle had been built with some sort of lightsaber-resistant material. If it hadn’t, this tower room would have long crumbled thanks to all those cuts.

At one time the room had window hangings, but they were mere tatters. Again, no doubt thanks to a lightsaber. He could just see, across the room, an open door that seemed to lead to a balcony, if the night stars he spotted was any indication.

He swept his gaze to the left. There was the source of the blue glow that threw a deathly pallor over the room. A state of the art communications array. It looked much more advanced than the one they’d had on Hoth, and he knew that Mon Motha had been very, very proud of it.

Of the Beast, there was no sign.

Nor did he spot his own lightsaber. Not that he expected to find it just laying around, of course.

He stepped into the room—

\--and his blood froze. Then boiled.

A foot, there, in the shadow. A small, pale foot. Clad in a slipper of purple and pink.

And another foot. Also clad in purple and pink. But lying at an impossible angle to its mate.

Pottz.

Bile rose in his throat.

The Beast killed Pottz. Cut her down, cut her into pieces.

Why? Just for helping him and his friends escape? But the Beast still had him! Made a deal for him! Why did she need to punish Pottz?

Give into anger feel the aggression let the hate flow

He took a step forward. He could end this, right now. Find the Beast. Take the Beast’s life. Take it as ruthlessly and in as much as cold blood as the Beast apparently took Pottz’s. Rip out the Beast’s heart. Watch the light fade from those feral yellow eyes.

Give into anger feel the aggression let the hate flow

He stopped.

No.

He would not do it the Beast's way.

With a concentrated effort, he forced out the whispers seeking to occupy his mind.

He had to get out of there. He would bring the Beast to justice. But he couldn't do it by himself. Not without his lightsaber. Not without Leia and Han and Chewie providing backup. Not with the Beast able to control entire starships just with a wave of fingers.

He’d go to Woolvertown, alert the local law enforcement. Surely there were some decent people in that little town who would care about the senseless death of an innocent.

He ran down the North Tower stairs, though the main floor of the castle, and out the main door. Promise or no promise, he could no longer stay there.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BELLE: Promise or no promise, I can't stay here another minute.

The moonlight shone bright as Luke loped across the clearing that surrounded the castle. But all light abruptly ceased when he plunged into the dark forest. He thought he was on the path he had traveled with Jingles just a few days before, but the branches high overhead immediately swallowed all illumination. The thick vegetation underneath squelched all sound. Only the harsh sound of his breathing reached his ears. 

He’d forgotten just how eerie the forest could be, and for a second he second-guessed his decision. Perhaps he should just face the Beast alone, by himself. End the Beast’s murderous ways once and for all. After all, he had no guarantee he would find help in Woolvertown.

But he tried to rescue Han, Leia and Chewie by himself, and look what it got him: a lifelong stay – or however long the Beast wanted to hold him – stay at Castle Spooky. 

And he ran headlong and brain-free into the situation on Bespin, hadn’t he, and look what transpired. The Beasts found Master Yoda, because of him. Master Yoda died, because of him. The Jedi were extinguished. 

Because of him. 

He had a duty to make sure this particular Beast was brought to justice. Crimes must be answered. Deaths must be avenged. He thought of poor little Pottz, with her large lavender eyes and small, delicate hands. Pottz never have stood a chance, once the Beast turned on her. She would have broken like so much kiln-fired crockery under the Beast’s dark side-fueled power. He squared his shoulders and marched on, his strides long and sure. 

A howl, then, off to his right. He stopped, stood still. It sounded again, a canine-like baying. The sound hurt his ears at the high end of the scale, causing bumps to rise on his skin with its low, almost inaudible rumble. 

He picked up his pace.

Another howl. Then another. This time to his left.

He felt around on the forest floor for a weapon, any weapon. He found a stick, long with a point on one end. It would have to do. He reached out with the Force—

Nothing. 

Those strange Force-absent bubbles were back.

He continued on the path, faster now, picking up into a jog. 

The howls stopped. He relaxed his grip on the stick.

Then – a chorus of shrill cries, ahead of him.

He stopped. 

More cries, a high-pitched keening that curdled his blood with its almost supernatural sound – coming from the path behind him.

He swung his stick in a circle, holding it as if it were a lit lightsaber.

The cries stopped, as if by a sudden unheard command.

Slowly, from the darkness of the trees, even darker shadows started to emerge.

Canines. Large canines. Heads as big as silver platters carried to his room by Looma. Strong, powerful shoulders. Muscular haunches. Eyes, glowing red.

They circled. Slowly, on silent padded paws. He could smell them now, a mixture of heavy musk and dead carrion.

Luke froze. Most predators on Tatooine were triggered by motion. If he stood still, perhaps they would go—

A canine lept. Claws, at least ten centimeters long, slashed at Luke’s shoulders.

He turned and ducked. The canine missed. It snarled, teeth flashing in what little light existed. Then it yipped, a shrieking bark. The rest of the pack joined in, the chorus a soul-chilling wailing harmony.

Luke shifted, tentatively moving one foot in front of the other. If he could just get out of the range of whatever bubble he was in, find the Force—

A heavy weight hit him from behind. He hit the ground, hard. His breath was knocked loose, his head bounced on a rock hidden on the path. Stunned, he couldn’t move, even if he wanted to. Sharp, piercing claws pinned him down. Hot, damp breath that stank of fear and dead things washed over him. He shut his eyes. The teeth would descend, tear out his jugular and—

The weight lifted. The thick needle-like claws were gone. He shook his head, his vision still blurred and his hearing still ringing from the collision with the rock. He thought he heard a canine yelp of hurt, surprise. Then another. He tested his hands, feet. They moved when he told them to. He ached all over, but he was alive. Somehow.

Through the ringing he heard a familiar..humming? A lightsaber?

He rolled over, still struggling to regain his breath.

Above him stood the Beast. Black cloak swirling, lightsaber flashing, cutting down one canine after another. But the predators kept coming.

Luke slowly got to his hands and knees. His foot brushed something--what--a blaster? Of course. Han’s blaster! The one he lost when the Beast tore it from his grip. Luke got to his feet. He picked off the canine leaping for the Beast’s back. 

He moved closer to the Beast, shooting off attacking animals as best he could in the dim light, until he stood back to back with the cloaked figure. The lightsaber thrust, turned, cleaved. Luke shot, bolt after bolt.

“To your left!” the Beast suddenly growled. “The Alpha! They won’t stop attacking until the Alpha leaves or dies!” 

Luke cut his gaze in that direction, but couldn’t see anything but dark leaves of trees and the even darker trunks densely packed together. He fired a bolt in that direction. It disappeared into the darkness. No answering yelp of pain came.

He fired again. And again. And again. The bolts didn’t seem to do any good.

He fired—

The blaster jammed. 

The Beast growled, an expression of inarticulate rage. They had killed nearly the entire pack, but three canines still stood on the left shoulder of the path. Their hackles stood straight up, their sharp teeth were bared in a horrifying rictus grin. 

“Stay back, farmer,” the Beast commanded, holding the red-violent lightsaber crossways.

The first canine jumped, went down. Then the second. The third tensed, appeared ready to spring--

A howl like nothing Luke had ever heard before came from the forest. 

The ground moved under his feet, a steady rhythmic thumping.

He heard the Beast take a large gulp of breath. 

A canine, three times the size of the others, burst from between the tree trunks. A blur of light and dark shadow, it headed straight for the arm holding the lightsaber.

The remaining canine followed, attacking from the other side. 

Luke tried the blaster again. The bolt went wide, wild. He heard a thump, as if something fell from a tree.

The Beast whirled, twisted, attempting to evade and defend. The cloak fell open. Something glinted at the Beast’s waist. Something cylindrical, hanging. 

Luke automatically reached out with the Force – 

\-- and called his lightsaber to him, just as the Beast went down under the weight of the Alpha. The Force-absent bubble was gone.

With a snap-hiss, his lightsaber ignited. For the smallest fraction of a split-second, he thought about letting the Beast die. A fitting death, the Beast killed by the claws and teeth of a wild beast. 

But he wouldn’t. 

He struck. The Alpha crouching over the Beast toppled, fell, and died. The last remaining canine got up and disappeared into the trees.

The Beast lay face down in the path, the cloak spilling around the still figure like a pool of black ink. Luke shut down his lightsaber and crouched down. He gently reached out a hand, pulled back the hood. Then he almost fell over with shock.

It couldn't be...could it?

This fearsome Beast, hated throughout the galaxy as one of Palpatine’s most deadly agents, was a human woman. 

And not a very old one. About his age, give or take a year or so. Her eyes were shut tight, but even in the dim light he could see sharply winged eyebrows and long, curly eyelashes that rested on pale cheeks. A dusting of freckles decorated the bridge of her narrow nose. Her full lips were parted.

She still breathed. His stomach did a flip of relief.

But she was wounded. The black cloak hid any sign of blood, but he could feel the stickiness on his hands. And on his back. He had his own, more minor, injuries to tend.

He heard another howl. It came from a far distance, but still. Now he knew why the residents stayed in their houses at night. 

He picked the Beast up, expecting to struggle with her weight once he reached the boundary of a Force-absent bubble, but she remained light in his arms. He realized that the lifts in her boots and the bulk of her cloak made her appear much larger than she really was. In reality, she was quite slight, built more like a dancer with long limbs and a slender torso than a muscle-bound fighter. 

He carried her out of the forest and across the clearing, toward the main entrance of the castle.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BEAST: Well, if you hadn't run away, this wouldn't have happened!
> 
> BELLE: Well, if you hadn't frightened me, I wouldn't have run away!

K’gworth slammed a cupboard door in the Carmine Pantry and opened another. “Glowrods, glowrods, now where in the names of all gods are the glowrods?” He slammed that door shut as well.

“Looking for these?” Looma held a glowrod in each hand. A small glow headlamp was positioned in the middle of his forehead.

“Give me that!” K’gworth grabbed one out of Looma’s hand. “How do you always find them so fast?”

Looma shrugged. “I think of them and then they appear.”

K’gworth rolled his eyes. “Never mind, what matters most is that we have them. Let’s go.” He marched out of the Pantry. When he realized that Looma was not at his heels, he turned. “Well? What’s keeping you?”

Looma shifted his weight from side to side, his gaze focused on the mosaic pattern in the floor tile. “I really did think, this boy, ‘e was the one.”

K’gworth’s gaze softened. “Yes, well, you weren’t the only one who hoped things might be different this time. But no doubt she’s found him by now. Come along. And bring the shovel.”

“The shovel? Moi?” Looma hurried to catch up.

K’gworth drowned out the litany of complaints coming from behind him. He marched to the imposing front door and, throwing all his weight into it, managed to wrench it open--

\--only to drop the glowrod at his feet. It shattered, sharp pieces flying everywhere, but he didn’t notice. He stared at the man outlined in the open doorway.

“You?” he croaked. “But…” His gaze fell to the bundle of dark cloth and pale limbs clasped to the man’s chest. “Mistress?” he gasped. “Is she…but how…I don’t understand…”

“Get out of the way!” Looma instructed, and K’gworth felt himself being tugged backward on feet that no longer obeyed him.

This wasn’t possible. Nothing defeated the Mistress. Nothing.

Well, except HIM. But they hadn’t received a transmission from HIM since the Boy’s arrival.

“She needs help,” the Boy said, and he pushed past K’gworth and Looma. His strides were long and hurried as he headed for the main staircase and the bedrooms above.

K’gworth glanced at Looma. The Gaulian’s gaze was as stunned as his own. But a small smile played at the corners of Looma’s mouth. “So it seems that things, they are different this time after all, no?”

“But she’s obviously incapacitated, you nitwit! That’s different all right, but it’s not good! What happens to us if she dies without fulfilling the prophecy?” K’gworth finally got his legs to work and he ran after the Boy.

Looma was hot on his heels, his smile wiped clean. 

* * *

Luke climbed the stairs as fast as he could, using the Force to keep the woman cradled against him free from jostling. She still lived. He could see the slow rise and fall of her chest. But her eyes remained tightly closed and she remained limp in his arms.

He ran down the hallway to his bedroom, not knowing where else to go. From behind him, he heard K’gworth’s heavy footsteps struggling to keep up with him. “The North Tower!” K’gworth gasped. “She must go to the North Tower!”

Luke didn’t stop or turn around. “I am not putting her in that hellish shambles of a room,” he said, his throat tight. He reached the bedroom assigned to him and gently lowered his arms, placing his bundle on the bed stomach first so as not to further inflame the wounds on her back.

Her face was turned to him, absent of all color, only the sprinkling of freckles across her nose standing out in vivid relief. Luke's heart clenched at seeing her so still. He knew she was responsible for terrible deeds, deeds for which she must answer. Yet she saved him out in the forest, when she could have left him to die. Why, he did not know.

But now it was his turn to try and save her life.

“She lives?” K’gworth asked, a tremor in his voice.

“Yes,” Luke answered. “But she’s badly hurt. The Alpha jumped her.” He sat down beside her and began to remove her boots, moving as slowly as he could so as not to harm her further. “We need hot water, bandages. Any bacta you might have.” He wished he had paid further attention to Aunt Beru when she spoke about medicines. On the other hand, knowing how to care for a third degree sunburn or how to heal skin flayed by a Category Five sandstorm wasn’t going to be much use now in any case.

K’gworth nodded and left the room at a dead run. Luke's attention was once more occupied by the woman on the bed. With the hood off, her hair spread around her like a cloud at sunset, shining red-gold in the light of the room’s lamp. He undid the fastener of her cloak, drew it away from her slender neck. But how to best remove her garments without injuring her further?

“Here, let me,” a soft, high-pitched voice said at Luke’s elbow. Luke turned and almost fell off the bed when he saw who was there.

“Pottz! You’re…you’re…not…you’re not…” he stammered.

Pottz cocked her head, her purple and pink tresses falling into her eyes. “I’m not what, Boy?”

“Dead,” he said simply. He blinked his eyes several times. She was still there.

“Well, of course I’m not! That would be ridiculous,” she said briskly. “Now, help me with her clothes. Poor mistress,” she crooned to the girl on the bed, tenderly lifting one arm, then the other, free from the massive black cloak.

“But…but…I saw you,” Luke said. “In the North Tower. You were…in pieces.”

Pottz stopped her ministrations to look at him. “Snooping, were you? That’s not very wise, Boy. Or polite.”

“Luke,” he said, his irritation rising. It was one thing when Han called him “Kid,” and that had its limits, too. It was another to have these strange people make him feel like he was ten years old, teased for having no parents, excluded from the others’ jokes and games.

Pottz retuned to her task. “Have it your way,” she said. “Snooping is not very wise. Or luke.”

“No,” he said with a short laugh, shaking his head. “Luke is my name. Not ‘Boy.’”

Pottz tsked. “But you are a boy, are you not? We need a boy. The prophecy won’t work otherwise.”

Luke shook his head again, this time in confusion. “I identify as a human male, yes, but my name is Lu—“ He stopped, his breath caught by the sight before him.

Pottz had managed to remove the girl’s garments from her upper back. He could see now the multiple deep slashes caused by the Alpha’s claws, red and raw and crusted with blood both old and new. But she had other scars. Dozens of them. Some silvered with age, others still pink and recent.

“What happened…” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t imagine what – or who - could have created them. Or how much pain was suffered in their inflection.

Pottz caught his gaze. “Yes, she’s had worse. We just need to make sure the poison from the claws doesn’t spread.” She looked behind him and her face lit up. “Ah! Here comes K’gworth with the water and the bacta.”

“Wait. Poison?” Why did he always feel like he was five steps behind and three days late in this castle? And-- “I saw you in pieces. How can you be alive?”

Pottz took the hot water from K’gworth and sent him away for more. “What a silly question,” she said, dipping a cloth into the basin. “Here--” she handed the cloth to Luke-- “clean her wounds. Careful, now.”

Luke did as he was bid, wincing as he wiped the blood away and saw the damage that lay underneath. The lacerations left by the Alpha’s claws were horrifying enough, but the skin around them was beginning to turn a deep, angry scarlet. Pottz looked over his shoulder and tsked. “Not good. Well, we’ll just have to see and wait.” She applied bacta patches to the cleansed areas.

The Beast stirred. “Shhh,” Luke soothed automatically, dabbing carefully with his cloth. The bumps of her spine and the sharp bones of her shoulders were clearly visible beneath the fair but scarred skin.

A soft whimper came from her lips. His hand moved of its volition to stroke red-gold hair off her damp forehead. With her strange, eerie yellow eyes hidden behind closed eyelids, she really was quite pretty, he thought. Her cheekbones were high, her lips full, her chin a bit long but pleasingly pointed. The smattering of freckles across her nose only emphasized her complexion’s smooth perfection.

She was just a young humn woman, really. A slight, delicately built young human woman.

But she was also one of Palpatine’s Beast, the rational part of his brain reminded him. The gimer stick shards shimmered in his memory.

He tore his gaze away from her face and continued to bathe the angry gashes on her back.

She moved again, causing him to jerk his hand away, and uttered a low moan.

“Mistress?” Pottz darted to the Beast’s side and knelt down so that she would be on eye level with the injured woman.

A yellow eye opened then, just a crack. “Pottz?” the Beast whispered. “You…okay?”

Pottz smiled at her. “Right as rain. Looma found the last missing part in an old supply box.”

A ghost of smile passed over the Beast’s face, turning into a grimace. “Good for Looma…” Her eye closed again.

Pottz put the last of the bacta patches on. “There now. Sleep, Mistress.” She looked up at Luke. “All that’s left now is time.”

“That’s all we’ve ever had,” K’gworth said from the shadowy corner where he had taken up sentinel duty. “Time. We used to have too much. Now I fear we don’t have enough.”

Luke’s patience was at an end. Enough with the cryptic speeches. How could Pottz be alive? And why was the Beast so scarred? And why did they keep calling him “boy?”

He turned to Pottz. She blurred before his eyes. He blinked again, and she came back into focus. “I want some answers,” he said, only it came out as, “I want shome anschewers.”

Pottz glanced at K’gworth with a raised eyebrow. K’gworth shrugged. “He told Looma he wasn’t a sot, but I have my suspicions.”

“Not a schmot!” Luke insisted. Although the room was whirling around him. On the other hand, he hadn’t any alcohol since that bottle of Whyren’s Reserve Han snuck into the pilot barracks on Hoth, so he doubted that was the root of the problem. He sat down on the floor next to the bed and put his head in his hands, hoping that would stop the room from tilting further.

“Boy?” Luke blinked up as Looma entered the room. Or at least Luke thought it was Looma. It was hard to tell, what with the three heads and six arms.

“I ‘ave made up a new room for you—“ Looma stopped, and turned to the others. “Sacre bleu!” he exclaimed. “Did you not see ‘e was also wounded?”

Wounded, Luke thought, his brain running thick and sludge-like. Yes, that’s right, a smaller canine got him, too. In the worry over the Beast, he’d almost completely forgotten. But now he could feel the burning pain radiating down his back, creeping through his nerves, seeping into his veins.

Poison, Pottz had said earlier.

Great.

He closed his eyes. The room stopped spinning.

Blackness swallowed him.


	12. Chaper Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BEAST: You...will join me for dinner. That's not a request!

Luke awoke with a start and a gasp, his lungs gasping for air as if he had been trapped inside a dust storm vortex without a breathing aid. His mouth was as arid as the dry season on Tatooine during year thirteen of the Great Drought, and his stomach rumbled like the Falcon with a faulty power converter. He tried to flex his arm, but it was heavy and stiff as if it hasn’t been used in days.

“Finally awake, farmer?” a voice hissed.

He opened his eyes. 

The morning light peeking through the half-drawn curtains revealed the Beast, sitting in a large overstuffed armchair at the foot of his bed. Her usual cloak was discarded in favor of a simple but well-cut black tunic and matching form-fitting trousers. The sun’s rays lit her hair, generating vivid sparks of red and gold, and picked out the freckles dashed across her nose. If it weren’t for the eerie yellow gaze glaring daggers at him – and the lightsaber she held firm in her hand - he’d believe her to be even prettier than he originally thought. 

He smiled at seeing her, apparently healthy and none the worse for her wounds. He couldn’t help it. “You’re out of bed,” he said. “How do you feel?”

She rose to her feet in one graceful movement. With a snap-hiss, her red-violet lightsaber ignited. She stalked to the side of his bed. The lightsaber came to a stop just centimeters from his throat. “I told you that if you broke your promise, the penalty would be death. So tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right here and now.” 

Luke blinked up at her, his brain still struggling to catch up. “I didn’t run away,” he pointed out in all honesty. “I’m right here.”

The lightsaber moved closer. Burning ozone filled his nose. “Only because I came after you,” the Beast snarled. 

Luke scooted back and sat up, hoping to put more distance between him and the glowing blade. It was only then he noticed, once again, he had been put to bed without any nightclothes to wear. He tucked the sheet tighter around his waist. “But you were injured,” he said, keeping a cautious eye on the weapon. “I could’ve left you there and kept going.”

He reached out with a Force nudge to turn the blade away. It worked, but only for a second. The Beast’s forehead furrowed. The lightsaber began to shake in her grip as she fought to regain control.

“Tricks, farmer? I have my own,” she growled, and Luke felt invisible fingers circle his throat. He split his concentration in the Force, managed to reduce their grip to a slight pressure. 

“No more tricks,” he finally managed to choke out. “I promise.” He let go of the weapon and she did the same with his throat. He swallowed, rubbing the sore area. Their gazes caught and met. He stared deep into the angry gold depths, refusing to let her see him flinch. To his surprise, she looked away first and lowered the weapon, shutting it off.

“I don’t understand.” Her breathing was a bit ragged. It seemed they were well matched in the Force. “Why did you come back?” 

“I had to carry you.” He shrugged. “You couldn’t return to the castle on your own, after all. And you needed immediate help.”

Her gaze narrowed to amber slits. “If you left me in the forest, I would have died.”

“Yes, you would have,” he said simply. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Yet my death would have freed you. Why save me?” She regarded him intently, the steadily burning anger deep in her gaze starting to dissipate. 

He sat up straighter. “We are all connected in the Force. Every being deserves a chance to live.” 

“Even a Beast?” she rasped softly.

“Even a Beast,” he replied.

They stared at each other for a minute. Her mind was thickly shielded, but a frown creased her pale forehead. 

“Besides,” Luke offered, “you saved my life first. So, it was only fair I saved yours.” He smiled at her again, broader this time.

The confusion cleared from her face. “Do not mistake my actions in the forest for compassion, farmer.” Her words were so cold, they made Hoth feel like Dagobah by comparison. “You swore to stay here. I was only collecting what was mine.”

Luke’s smile faded. “Fine,” he said evenly. “Whatever your reason, I still thank you.” A thought hit and he reached behind, tried to find the wounds on his back left by the canine’s claws. No bandages. All he felt were thin ridges where the marks had been, healed over and painless to the touch. He glanced up at her. “I don’t understand. I was hurt, too.”

The Beast raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “A healing trance,” she said, her tone implying he should have known the obvious.

Luke stopped twisting his head trying to see behind him. “A what?”

She scoffed. “I put you in a healing trance. Surely you would have put yourself in one if you had been able.” 

“I – no. I didn’t know such a thing was possible.” He reached behind him again. Amazing. He wondered if she would teach him how to do it, and then shot down the thought. She was one of Palpatine's dark side creatures. No doubt her skills were dark as well. 

If he started down that path, forever would it dominate his destiny. Or so he had been told.

“You don't--is this another trick? But you are Force sensitive, trained by traitorous Jedi. My Master says you are the most-” She pressed her lips closed and tossed her head, red-gold locks tumbling across her shoulders

“Your Master?” No sooner had he uttered the words than he realized to whom she was referring. Of course. Palpatine. He crossed his arms over his bare chest.

Her generous mouth twisted. “Yes. My Master. I can hear his call from wherever he is in the galaxy, no matter the distance.” He didn't need the Force to read the pride radiating from her. She leaned closer to him until he could see the red sparks deep in her golden eyes. “He will be here. Soon.”

So that was the plan: keep him here until he could be handed over to the Emperor. An icy chill trailed down his healed back. Perhaps the Beast was right. Perhaps he would have been better off if he had left her in the forest to die.

On the other hand, he’d probably be dead, too, thanks to those...what did she call them? Wolvskrs?

“And just how soon is soon?” Luke heard himself asking.

She looked away, but not before he caught the thinning of her lips. “Soon enough,” she spat out. 

Ah. She didn’t know. And she was not happy about it. But then, he wondered if she was ever happy about anything. 

Well. If he had to face Palpatine, he might as well make the most of his remaining time to prepare. And that meant practicing his training, by any means possible. He would show the Emperor that the Jedi were not fully extinguished. As long as Luke had breath in his body, the Jedi yet lived.

He swung his legs to get out of bed—

\-- and at the last second remembered he wasn’t wearing anything.

Face red, he scrambled back under the covers. 

The Beast kept her head averted, but her lower lip was caught between her teeth. “Since you are obviously awake and recovered from your wounds, I will send Looma to attend you,” she said without a backward look, and she stalked her way to the door. When she reached it, she spun to face him. 

“You will have dinner with me.” It was not phrased as a request.

“Do I have a choice?” Luke deadpanned. 

“You could sleep though it again. But I don’t advise it,” she said, a dangerous smirk on her lips. She left the room.

He lay back against the pillows. Suddenly, dinner seemed very far away. Too far away. Of course, he hadn’t eaten in days, which might have something to do with his anticipation.

Still, it couldn’t come soon enough.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BEAST: I'm so...well, look at me!

The Beast paced in her small tower room. Fifteen long steps and she reached the high window that overlooked the forest, thin wisps of smoke rising from Woolvertown chimneys barely visible in the distance. She turned and strode back the other direction, toward the rough-hewn walls that still bore deep score marks from when she missed the remote during her lightsaber training. She didn’t need to see the forest. It was a reminder that, for all the power and authority conferred on her by her Master, she was just as much a prisoner in the castle as the farmer in the Ochre Bedroom.

It was also a reminder of where the farmer chose to save her life – at the expense of his own freedom.

She tossed her mane of curls, pushing the locks that would settle in her field of vision out of her eyes. It was none of her concern how the foolish man chose to spend his last remaining days. If it had been up to her, the farmer would still be rotting in the dungeons deep below. But no, Pottz had to go and let him and his companions out. Well. She did her best to fix the defect in Pottz’s programming, even rebuilding her from the ground up, but she had a feeling little she did would correct Pottz’s tendency to do whatever she thought was right.

The Beast conveniently refused to remind herself that she could have ordered K’gworth to put the prisoner back in the dank cells, but never did.

She turned around when her next step would have run her into the wall and headed back toward the window. He saved her.

She understood why he sacrificed his liberty for his friends. But for her? She, whose only value – her back tensed, the pain her Master would inflict whenever she did not measure up to his standards a recent memory - lay in her ability to carry out his justice with quick, fatal precision?

The farmer’s actions did not make sense. It did not fit how the world worked. Her Master ruled over the galaxy with a firm but fair hand. When criminals took advantage of his benevolence, he weighed their deeds. If the deeds were terrible enough, then she or another Beast would deliver the final blow.

This farmer…this _boy_…committed one of the worst acts possible. He destroyed the _Stellar Peace_, a space station so mighty and indestructible it had been ironically nicknamed the “Death Star” by envious military personnel who grumbled that someone would have to die before a coveted assignment on board would open up.

Then they all died. Because of him. One missile in an exhaust port and blink! A million lives extinguished.

Including the mightiest life of them all. The Lord of the Beasts. The Emperor’s favorite. Last seen in his starfighter, chasing the farmer’s decrepit vessel into the trenches of the _Stellar Peace_ before flame and gasses and then the mighty vacuum of space turned everything in the near vicinity into so much cold, lifeless dust.

Some whispered the Lord of the Beasts might yet live. They said his starfighter spun away, escaping the burning shards and concussive winds, spiraling out of control into an uncharted sector. Lacking comms and perhaps even his memory, he was still out there.

She didn’t believe the rumors. The Lord of the Beasts had powers that far surpassed her own. If he lived, he would have made his presence known by now. But even if the Emperor’s favorite survived, the mass murder of the _Stellar Peace_’s crew was more than enough to condemn the boy.

His crimes were so severe, her Master wished to face the boy personally.

She glanced at her comm unit, but it remained stubbornly silent. As did her master’s voice in her mind. He hadn’t contacted her since she first informed him that she had his quarry in hand. She knew the construction of the second _Stellar Peace_ kept his thoughts occupied, but surely he would want to deal with the boy sooner rather later?

She bit her lower lip. He saved her. The Killer of the Peace – and yet he saved her.

A farmer.

A mass murderer.

A boy. Not much older than her.

And he could use the Force, like her. But different. When she called on the Force, she sensed a hovering dark shadow, its edges wrapping tighter and tighter around her. When he did, it was as if an invisible sun lit him from within.

The contradictions between what she had been told about him and the behavior she’d witnessed made her head hurt. She picked up a piece of fruit left over from her lunch and threw it at the wall. It hit the stone with a loud squelching noise, juice and pulp and skin spattering all over.

Its destruction should have made her feel better. She liked to tear things apart. She was a Beast. That was what she did. What she was created to do.

It made her worse.

A chime sounded, and K’gworth’s voice came from the comm unit. “Mistress?”

She whirled around and located his face on the holoscreen. “What?” she spit out.

He jumped back, his eyes as wide as she had ever seen them. “Dinner is ready?” It came out as a question.

She sighed. No use taking it out on K’gworth. He made a terrible sparring partner. He was wound so tight, it could take her days to get him back to functioning properly again.

“Is the farmer gracing us with his presence this time?” Her tone was as cold. But her heart beat just a little bit faster.

“Looma is bringing him, yes,” K’gworth said.

Her hand came up to smooth her curls before she realized what she was doing. She put it down and crossed her arms over her chest instead. “Fine,” she said, her chin in the air as she made her way to the door. “But he better be seated at the table when I arrive.”


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LUMIERE: Beef ragout, cheese souffle, pie and pudding en flambe! We'll prepare and serve with flair a culinary cabaret!

Much to Luke’s surprise, dinner was pleasant. Well, it was once he got over the shock of being served by stormtroopers wearing protective smocks over their white armor. No, not stormtroopers, he reminded himself – White Workers. Still, there was something off putting about looking at those blank, black eyes and asking for the salt to be passed. He kept reaching for the hilt of his lightsaber, only to be reminded, once again, it was in the Beast’s possession.

The food continued to be excellent. “In times of stress, fine dining is suggested,” Looma had said as he guided Luke to his chair. “A dinner here is never second best. Enjoy.” But Luke noted that Looma, Pottz and K’gworth did not sit down at the table to partake. Instead, they stood along the wall with the White Workers who weren’t currently pressed into service.

The Beast…ah, the Beast. She sat the head of the long, polished wood table, some six meters distant from Luke, who sat at the foot. She kept her gaze focused on the plate in front of her, although at odd intervals she raised her head to glare at him, her forehead sharply creased. He tried to smile at her, but it only made her glare intensify. When he ventured a few remarks about the weather, she shot him a look so cold and deadly, the remaining words died in his throat. But she didn’t eat much, her fork mostly pushing her food around and around.

Finally, the parade of dishes slowed. “Dinner was excellent,” he said. “Thank you.”

The Beast sniffed, a derisive, imperious sound. She didn’t look at him.

Looma and Pottz exchanged anxious glances. K’gworth looked like he was about to blow a gasket.

Luke shrugged. Well. She had demanded his presence at dinner; he was there. He had to eat, after all. But he couldn’t figure out why she required him to be there if she wasn’t going to acknowledge him. Was it just to prove she had the power to order him around? Fine. She made her point. But the meal was now over and his obligation at an end.

He pushed back his chair from the table. “I’m going to return to my room.” He didn’t know where else to go. The castle was dark and empty and echoing, especially at night. In his room, he’d discovered one of the bedposts was loose and easily removed. He could practice his katanas with it, until such time when he could retrieve his lightsaber. “Good night.”

The Beast’s head snapped up, her golden eyes burning. “I did not say you could leave.”

“You didn’t say one word all dinner,” Luke pointed out. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned to leave.

A plate smashed into the wall next to the door, just barely missing his right ear. Cloudberry jam left a sticky trail as it oozed down the azure striped wallpaper. “You don’t have permission to leave,” the Beast snarled from behind him.

He whirled around, not at all amused. Cloudberry jam was expensive, at least on Tatooine. And they certainly didn’t serve it in Rebel Alliance mess halls. Her display of temper wasted at least a month’s income. “You missed.”

She scoffed, rising from her chair and taking several steps toward him. “Hardly. I don’t miss my target. Try to leave, and you’ll find out just how accurate I am.” A large, shallow bowl levitated off the table and turned slowly. Luke noted it was filled to the brim with ootoowergs. And ootoowergs, although delicious, were rather slimy and tended to leave bright green stains on clothing.

He shook his head. “Not going to happen,” he said, and reached out with the Force. The bowl hung in midair, vibrating as he struggled to wrest control from the Beast.

“Zut alors,” he heard Looma whisper. “And we just finished cleaning the dining room after the last mess, too.”

“If I may,” K’gworth said, his normal rumble several octaves higher. “I believe some entertainment is called for?” He clapped his hands in front of him, and several White Workers left the room. “Looma, if you please?’’

“But of course!” Looma waved his arms, and the three chandeliers overhead dimmed, the light in the room reduced from midday sun bright to shadows at dusk dark. Luke blinked at the sudden change, his focus momentarily lost. Without his Force resistance pushing against the Beast’s mental grip, the bowl spun wildly. It shot through the air, flinging its contents far and wide across the room.

Cold ootoowergs dripped down Luke’s hair and neck, causing his skin to crawl. The vegetables were even slimier when not served hot. And smellier.

A loud gasp of shock caused him to look up. Ootoowerg had spattered across the Beast’s pale face. Bright green spots bloomed on the chest of her black tunic. Her expression was so indignant and outraged, he did the only thing he could do in the situation.

He laughed.

Her head came up sharply, her eyebrows knitted tightly together. “You! This is all your…” She raised her right hand into the air. The slender fingers pointed. At him.

Pottz’s gasp was all the warning Luke needed. He ducked the plate of baked dru’un slices in fish sauce. But he never saw the blubberbird egg salad, flying free of its dish. It hit him square in the face.

The Beast took one look at him and snickered.

Luke’s fists clenched. All this perfectly good food wasted! And for what? To amuse a spoiled, petulant Beast? He wiped the salad from his eyes, the creamy dressing dripping down his cheeks and off his nose.

The Beast snickered even harder.

Funny thing, though, he noticed. The cold, dark shadow that seemed to hover around her like a permanent cloud had lifted, just a little.

His mouth quirked up. Might as well practice some of his training. It wasn’t as if this food could be given to someone who needed it. He used the bottom of his tunic to mop the last of the salad from his cheeks, and gave the Beast an ear-to-ear grin.

And then he used the Force to levitate the massive platter of nerf steaks in green fire sauce from its place of honor in the center of the table.

Pottz hid her face with her hands, but kept her fingers parted so she could still see out. Looma stood so still, he seemed as if he had been turned into a waxwork. K’gworth just chanted, “Oh dear oh dear oh dear,” under his breath.

The Beast stopped snickering. Her gaze widened.

Luke kept the platter in the air. It lazily swooped from side to side at his command. He could feel her reach out, try to get a Force grip of her own on the dish, but he kept it just out of her grasp. She slowly backed up, keeping the massive table between them. He steadily advanced on her position. The platter glided beside him, sauce occasionally sloshing over its sides.

“Stay where you are.” The Beast braced her hands on the table, her chin lifted high. Ootoowerg still dotted her cheeks. “Put that down.”

“Or what?” Luke asked with a smirk. He sauntered toward her. With a wave of his hand, the platter of nerf steaks rose higher into the air. It tilted it, just a little. The Beast snatched her right hand away at the last second. The green fire sauce splashed on the table instead.

She said nothing, her bright golden glaze glaring daggers at him. But her hand moved. A giant bowl of mashed tubers swimming in blue butter rose from the table and floated in front of her.

“Tubers?” he scoffed. “I grew up on Tatooine. Tubers are nothing compared to some of the stuff I’ve had to eat.”

She rolled her eyes at him but kept her Force grip steady on the bowl. “Not one step closer. I’m warning you, farmer.”

“Now, now!” K’gworth stepped between them, his moustache twitching. “We were having such a nice evening. The musicians will be here any minute. Shall we return to our seats, have a little dessert, perhaps? Mmm, pastry!” He rubbed his stomach, his hands trembling.

A slow, dangerous smile curved the Beast’s lips. “What do you say, farmer? Care for some dessert?” Her gaze sparkled, and for a brief split-second Luke thought her eyes appeared green instead of a burning yellow.

Luke shook his head. “Not in the mood for pastry. I still prefer nerf steaks.” He nudged the platter with the Force and the bottom of the dish skimmed the top of her red-gold curls.

She gasped and began to edge backward. The bowl of tubers rose above Luke’s head and tilted, threatening to turn upside down. “Don’t play games you can’t w—“

She never finished the sentence. Her foot skidded on the puddle of cloudberry jam collecting on the polished wood floor. She slipped, struggled to regain her balance. The bowl slipped as well, its contents falling.

Luke automatically jumped to catch her before she could fall. The tubers missed him, but K’worth was not so lucky. Fluffy bits of mash rained from the upturned dish onto his head. He sputtered, his moustache dripping with blue butter.

Luke reached for the Beast’s arm, intending to keep her upright. But his boots encountered spilled ootoowerg. He slid, feet first, right into the Beast.

They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs just as two White Workers entered the room, carrying a chidinkalu and a slitherhorn. They stopped and their heads cocked to the side at seeing Luke and the Beast sprawled at their feet. The platter of nerf steaks that crashed down on them turned their spotless white armor into a spattered, smelly, green and brown mess. The musical instruments clattered to the ground, useless.

For a moment, all was silent. Then Looma cleared his throat. “It would seem music is out, but I could tell jokes, no?” Looma said. “Or do some tricks?”

Pottz giggled, but it was a brief, nervous outburst that soon ended.

Luke blinked, trying to regain his equilibrium. The Beast’s right leg was caught between the two of his, and his left hand…he snatched it away, not knowing where to look as he felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He struggled to his feet.

The Beast pulled herself into sitting position. Her tunic was covered with all sorts of stains, her trousers much the same. She lifted her hand to push her hair out of her face but stopped when she realized her curls were sticking to her cloudberry jam-covered fingers.

Luke held his breath. Would the Beast erupt into another display of hot anger? Perhaps Force Lightning this time?

She lifted her head. Her gaze narrowed.

And she laughed. It rang loud and clear, like the Toydarian clan bells he’d heard on Tatooine. “The expression on your faces!” she said when she could catch her breath. “And look at poor K’gworth! And my White Workers!” She grabbed her sides, her laughter continuing.

Luke exchanged glances with Pottz and Looma. They shrugged at him, their gazes wide and wondering. Then he extended a hand to the Beast. Much to his surprise, she took it and allowed him to pull her upright. Her fingers, although sticky, were warm and surprisingly delicate in his. He let go only when she pulled her hand free.

“I don’t know why there were so many dishes,” she said, her laughter fading but a smile remaining on her face. “Having another human to feed must have thrown the White Workers off. I’ll look into their programming tomorrow.” She tried to brush various foodstuffs off her clothes but gave up when she seemed to realize she was only making things worse.

Luke thought he’d never seen the Beast look lovelier. Her cheeks were flushed, her red-gold hair wild and tossed free about her shoulders. The tense attitude – the sense that she would spring like a predator at the slightest provocation – was gone, her shoulders relaxed and her back no longer ramrod straight.

She looked up and caught his gaze. “You missed some,” he said, pointing to the spot on his own face.

Her hand reached up, but she took it down before she could leave a sticky trail across her skin. “Nice try, farmer,” she said, but her expression was open and carefree.

He grinned back at her, his gaze locking onto those yellow orbs of hers. “No, really, you do.” Before he know what he was doing, he had reached out to gently wipe the ootoowerg from her pointed chin.

She jerked back from his touch. A shutter seemed to slam across her face, closing all joy and fun out of her expression. “You have my permission to leave after this ridiculous display of yours. Dinner is over.” She turned on her heels and moved toward the door.

Luke stood where she left him, his hand still hovering in mid-air. It was an instinct to touch her, nothing more. Or at least that’s what he told himself. Still, when he looked into her eyes…there might be something there that wasn’t there before.

* * *

The Beast paced in her small tower room. She still wore her spattered tunic and the sour smell of ootoowerg clung to the air. At any other time she would have demanded a hot bath and immediate decontamination of her clothes, but she was oddly loath to scrub away the reminders of her strange dinner. Her wonderful, strange dinner.

She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed. In fact, she was surprised she even knew how.

Bah! This was his fault. That…farmer. The killer of the Peace. Her prisoner. Her Master’s prize quarry.

The man who saved her, when he could have freed himself by letting her die.

And earlier tonight…

The look on his face when the blubberbird egg salad hit him square on his jaw flashed across her memory. She snickered, and then clasped her hands over her mouth. There was no one to hear her, of course – she flashed a glance at her comm display, reassuring herself the glassy reflective surface remained blank – but still. She didn’t smile. She didn’t chuckle. She certainly didn’t—

A gale of bubbly laughs burst free. The White Workers covered in green fire sauce! The butter dripping from K’gworth’s moustache! Potts, trying so desperately not to react! The farmer, with that inviting smirk on his lips, threatening her with mutual food fight destruction!

Dinner had been…the only word that came to mind was “fun.” A foreign concept, to be sure. But one she wouldn’t mind repeating. Just to see if the feeling could be replicated. She had her doubts.

The Beast yawned. It was late. She should get some rest. She had no idea when her Master would contact her, but it would behoove her to be as alert as possible when he did. She raised her arms to remove her tunic, and caught a fresh whiff of stale ootoowerg. Perhaps next time they could forego the throwing of the dishes part. She yawned again and fell across her pallet, a smile edging its way across her face.

She jolted awake a second later. Next time? What was she doing, thinking in terms of “next times?” She commanded the farmer’s presence at dinner only to ensure he would not be malnourished when presented to her Master. The boy was nothing more than troublesome prey, to be disposed of as soon as commanded…

…wasn’t he?

Sleep eluded her for most of the night.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BEAST: No, it can't be. I'll just ignore. But then she's never looked at me that way before.

Bright sunlight streaming across his face caused Luke to wake up. He stretched and looked around for the breakfast tray, usually placed at his bedside by now. The space was empty. A grumble from his stomach reminded him it was empty, too. He’d definitely spilled more food than he had eaten the night before.

“Looma?” he called. No answer. That was fine with Luke. A nephew of Owen and Beru Lars could never be comfortable lying around while others waited on him hand and foot.

In his exploration of the castle, he had yet to find the kitchens. No time like the present, he thought, and hurriedly dressed in the fresh tunic and form-fitting trousers he found hanging in the wardrobe. His clothes from last night had disappeared, much to his relief. He didn’t envy whoever had been given the food-stained and smelly clothing to wash.

Before he exited, Luke snatched up the loose bedpost. The bedroom was spacious enough as bedrooms went but the furnishings weren’t conducive to lightsaber practice, even when the “lightsaber” was a long, thin cylinder of wood. He hoped no one would notice the curtains covering the far left window were now lopsided. Perhaps after breakfast he might find a gallery or a ballroom or someplace a bit harder to damage.

Hoping to add to his mental map of the castle, he set out in the opposite direction from his previous tours of the castle. He passed room after room, each one more colorful yet absent any sign of recent occupation than the one before.

A faint hum drew his attention. Was that a lightsaber? Or did he just have lightsabers on his mind? He followed the noise through narrow corridors and expansive hallways until he stood before two imposing wooden doors. He’d never seen this part of the castle before. It appeared older than the part that held his bedroom, as if built at the same time as the dungeons far below. The walls and floor were irregularly cut blocks of stone, rough and grey. The coved ceiling soared above him, supported by buttresses. Metal brackets placed every so often must have once held fire torches for light.

But for all that it reminded Luke of the dank cell where he found Han, Leia and Chewie, he didn’t feel the oppressive presence of the dark side. Well, except for the presence of the Beast on the other side of the door. He felt her in the Force, loud and clear.

And heard her. Yes, that was definitely the sound of a lightsaber. He pushed against the wood and the door swung silently open.

He stopped short at the sight in front of him.

The room was vast and empty except for the Beast, alone in its center. Her red-violet blade was a dizzying blur of arcs, feints and parries. But it was the woman wielding the weapon who captured most of his attention. She wore a simple, close-fitting dark tunic over black leggings, her bare feet flexing and pointing as she spun, crouched and raised high on her toes. Her red-gold mane was tamed in a braid that swayed with her movements, escaped tendrils clinging to her forehead and flushed cheeks. Eyes closed, she seemed to be moving to music only she heard.

Luke knew with a certainty he had never seen anything – anyone – so graceful in his life. He breathed as shallowly as he could, not wanting to disturb her and cause the picture in front of him to disappear.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke caught a glimpse of Looma, half hidden in the shadows of a far corner. The Gaulian tossed a globe-shaped training remote into the air, iasers firing from all ports. Luke dragged his gaze away from the Beast long enough to note the scattered remnants of previous remotes, cut into small, metallic shards. He held his breath as the remote dove toward the beast, bright arcs of green light aimed at her chest. She easily deflected them, her blade dancing through the air.

It was not a fair contest. A few swift strokes of her lightsaber and the remote lay in two pieces at her feet. With her back to Luke, she shut down her weapon and wiped her forehead with her tunic sleeve.

“’allo!” Looma turned and waved at Luke.

Luke waved his arms crisscross in front of him, in what he hoped was the universal sign for “Shh! I’m not here!” but apparently Looma never learned how to interpret it. The Gailian smiled even broader. “Bonjour, monsieur!” he called.

The Beast’s head came sharply up. “Who are you…?” She whirled to face Luke. “You.” Her golden gaze glowed in the sunlight streaming through the tall, narrow windows, pinning Luke in place. “How long have you been there?”

“It’s me,” Luke said with a nod. “I’m, um, sorry to interrupt,” he said, putting down the broken bedpost as the heat rose in his cheeks. The polite thing would have been to announce his presence right away. If Aunt Beru were still live, she’d be very disappointed in him. But this castle and its inhabitants were so far out his realm of his experience, and the chance to observe the Beast in her natural setting, as it were…he forgot his manners. “I was looking for breakfast.”

“Zut alors!” Looma exclaimed. “The food tray, I ‘ave completely forgot!” He clasped his hands together. “I will bring it to you, tout de suite.”

The Beast narrowed her gaze at Looma. “Forgetfulness is unlike you.”

He gave her a wide, innocent smile. “My Mistress commanded me to ‘elp ‘er with ‘er exercises, I cannot disobey.”

She regarded him, her gaze thinning to mere slits. “Don’t think I don’t know what you are doing. You may go.”

Looma pointed his right foot and bowed deep with a flourish of his arms, a cheeky gesture that caused the corners of the Beast’s mouth to upturn. When she turned back to Luke, all traces of amusement were gone. “You cost me my sparring partner.”

Luke indicated the broken remotes. “It seems you did all the damage on your own.”

She strode toward him, stopping only a few feet from his position. Dust motes pirouetted in the sunlit air between them. “That was just the warm up. Looma’s moves are patterned on one of the greatest Jedi the Old Republic ever saw. But I take him down, ninety nine times out of a hundred.” She stepped closer.

If he wanted to, Luke could reach out a finger and trace the path her freckles took across the bridge of her nose. “And the one hundredth time?” he asked.

She smiled. There was no mirth in it. But nor, to Luke’s pleased surprise, was any malice present. “Care to see how well you fare against me, farmer?” She reached inside her tunic and drew out his lightsaber, tossed it to him.

He caught it easily. It felt so good to have its familiar weight in his grasp once more, especially since there were no angry canines hoping to have Skywalker stew for dinner present. He looked up. “Aren’t you afraid I will best you and escape the castle?”

“Aren’t you more afraid you won’t?” She caught his gaze with hers, the challenge clearly visible in the yellow depths.

He gave her a thin-lipped smile of his own. His blue blade ignited and he held it vertical in a salute. “After you.”

They took their positions in the center of the empty room, circling warily. The Beat attacked first, a lightning strike of grace and strength. Luke parried, turned. His riposte put her on the defensive, her blade moving furiously to fend him off while finding a weakness she could exploit.

The Force swirled around them, its energy cool and hot, light and dark. She drew her energy from deep reservoirs of rage and hate, her anger scalding, He’d sensed the same taint on Bespin as they escaped. On Dagobah, in the rotted tree Yoda bade him enter.

In that tree, Luke had seen himself as a Beast. The Lord of the Beasts. The memory made him fight harder, his blue blade hacking. She matched him and more, her red-violet blade forcing him to back up, retreat. The Force simmered around them, oppressive and heavy. The voices he had heard in the dungeon started up again: _Give in to anger give in to hate strike her down it’s what she deserves take her power for yourself --_

No! He leapt into the air, the Force powering his legs, and landed softly behind the Beast. He reached deep down for his own reservoirs, for peace and calm. He held onto images of Leia and Han, of Chewie and even Threepio. If he fell to the dark side as Yoda had warned him against, they would be next on the Emperor’s agenda.

The Beast turned to face him, her blade poised for the killing blow. Luke brought his weapon up just in time. The blades met, plasma crackling. The stench of ozone permeated the air.

As soon as one advanced, the other parried and riposted. Locked in a stalemate, neither one able to find a definitive opening.

Luke grinned. The Force flowed through his limbs, from his grip on the hilt to his booted feet, seeking purchase on the uneven ground to jump, pivot and move.

The strain showed on her face. She gasped for air. But she wouldn’t yield. The tiny portion of his mind not concentrating on the duel marveled at her tenacity.

“’Allo!” Looma’s voice boomed from behind them. “The food, it is getting cold!”

The unexpected disruption gave Luke the opportunity he needed. With a twist, he managed to disarm her. Her lightsaber arced through the air. It fell, clattering on the ground. She grunted in surprise, rubbing her wrist.

He saluted her once more and then shut down his lightsaber. “So that makes one for me, and—”

Something hit the back of his knees, hard. His hands and knees crashed into the stone floor with a bone rattling impact. A bare foot landed on his back, forcing his air out. “Oof!”

“Never think a fight is over until you are sure it is over, farmer.” The Beast’s low voice tickled his ear. “And never leave yourself exposed to an enemy.” She straightened up, still keeping her foot on his lower back. “I believe the score is one for me, and—”

With a sudden movement, Luke rolled out under her foot. One soft Force push and she was on her back. He scrambled to pin her down, his knees bracketing her thighs, his hands keeping hers immobile.

“You mean, never leave yourself exposed to an opponent who has the Force,” he said. “And grew up in a farming community where fistfights after the chores were done doubled as entertainment.”

She glared up at him. But the fire in her gaze did not burn. He expected her to struggle, but instead she relaxed in his grip. “Nicely played,” she said. “I thank you for the lesson.” And she smiled. A real smile. “That was…fun.”

She said it as if the word were foreign to her.

He grinned at her. This close, with sunlight highlighting the fiery sparks in her hair and a flush tinting her pale skin – and a smile warming her usual frosty exterior – she wasn’t beastly at all. Quite the opposite. He loosened his hold on her hands. “Thanks for being a great sparring partner. It’s the best ‘saber practice I’ve had in a long time. Not since Master Yo—”

He bit back the rest of the name. What was he thinking? She wasn’t his friend. She was his captor. His enemy. Nothing more.

Wasn’t she?

Her smile disappeared as quickly as it appeared. With a flick of her wrist, she called the hilt of her lightsaber to her and held it with the business end pointed at him. Her thumb hovered over the ignition stud. “Are you going to get off me, or...?”

“Oh. Sorry. Of course.” Heat suffused his cheeks for the second time that morning. He struggled to his feet and reached out a hand to help her up.

She ignored it, rising from the floor in what seemed like one graceful movement. “Your weapon,” she began.

“Right,” he said, and reached to unclip it from he had hung it on his belt out of habit.

“No,” she said. She kept her head turned away. “Keep it.”

“What?” Shock rooted his feet in place. He didn’t think he could move if he wanted to. “Aren’t you worried I’ll use it to escape?”

She scoffed. “The walls of the castle contain cortosis ore, impervious to lightsabers. Even if you managed to break free, we’re surrounded by the forest. The ysalamiri keep the Force at bay—”

So that’s what those strange creatures are called, Luke thought.

“—And the wolvskrs in the forest would take care of you. You wouldn’t hurt Looma or K’gworth or Pottz, and I,” she paused and tapped her lightsaber hilt again, “can more than take care of myself.”

Luke nodded. She was completely right. He might as well keep his weapon. “Thank you.” His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he still hadn’t eaten. “Looma said the food was getting cold, so I better go.”

The Beast raised her hand. “There is one condition.”

“Isn’t there always?” he said under his breath.

She flicked her braid over her shoulder and caught her lower lip in her teeth, just for a second. “I command you to practice with me every morning at this time.”

Luke allowed his grin to fill his whole face. “My pleasure.”


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MRS. POTTS: Barely even friends, then somebody bends, unexpectedly. Just a little change, small to say the least.

Before Luke knew it, the hours turned into days, the days into weeks. Life in the castle settled into a routine, if a rather odd and peculiar one. He never did find the kitchens, but a breakfast, piping hot, was by his bedside no matter when he awoke. In the evenings, he joined the Beast in the Lavender Salon, a far more intimate spot for eating than the Crimson Dining Room, where they sat across a simple table meant to hold no more than four people.

At first their conversations were stilted, limited mostly to the weather (it was always sunny and warm on Diswalt, he soon learned). But as time passed, their discussions turned to deeper, more personal matters. He told her the more comical stories about growing up on Tatooine, causing the Beast to snort blue milk through her nose at his description of his uncle’s face when Lars found the krayt dragon’s egg Luke had hidden under his bed.

She, in turn, shared with him her favorite works of Alemanian literature and her love of Weinna classical music. It turned out the White Workers were rather skilled musicians after all. But the best thing about the impromptu concerts was they allowed him to sit back and watch the Beast as she listened. With her yellow eyes closed so she could concentrate on the music, he could almost pretend they just another young couple, spending their evenings getting to know one another.

Of current events in the galaxy, they both remained mum. The words Rebellion and Emperor never once crossed their lips. But thoughts of Leia and Han, of Threepio and Chewie, were always present in his mind. And at times, he would glance up suddenly and catch the Beast looking at him with pity – or was it sadness? – in her gaze. Although she’d stopped calling him a prisoner and life in the castle was luxurious beyond his wildest imagination, he couldn’t forget what he was – or who she was.

Except, perhaps, during his favorite time of day. Every morning, he would join the Beast in what he learned was called the Ivory Ballroom, where a very different dance than the one for which the room was intended took place.

The Beast knew how to wield a lightsaber, but she had a tendency to rely on brute strength and blunt use of the Force instead of technique and finesse. She confessed her past opponents – she’d stumbled over that word and he looked away – did not have the Force and so she was not accustomed to facing someone with Luke’s abilities.

She was a very quick learner, however.

The red-violet blade came from out of nowhere. It clashed against Luke’s blade, the harsh sound ringing in his ears, and twisted. Hard. His lightsaber flew out of his surprised grip, toward the far left corner. “Touché!” exclaimed Looma from his usual position in the door. “One point for the Mistress. Now you are tied, n’est pas?”

Luke rubbed his wrist. “That was new,” he said to the Beast. “I was expecting you to attack from the right. I left myself wide open.”

She shut down her weapon and tossed her braid over one shoulder. “I kept my presence shielded. As you did in the last match.”

“You also bided your time, waited for your moment,” he pointed out. “You weren’t as impatient as you usually are.”

She smiled. She did that more often, he’d noted. It brought color to her pale cheeks, banked the strange yellow fire in her gaze. It also caused his stomach to do the most disconcerting backflip. “It’s…strange,” she said, appearing to pick her words carefully. “I’ve always known it best to strike fast at my enemies to cause fear. I let anger guide my arm. But lately...” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “Well. Perhaps there might be other ways to use the Force.”

He knew it was ridiculous, but pride in his ability to teach, as he has been taught, swelled his chest. Even though she was a Beast, and he was no doubt only helping her gain more power to vanquish her enemies. Her enemies, who were his friends. But perhaps even a Beast could change its hide? To hide his confused thoughts, he walked to the corner and picked up his lightsaber. “Time for the deciding match?”

“Do you really have to ask—” She swallowed her last word as K’gworth pushed his way past Looma and into the room. He made a straight line toward the Beast, never once glancing in Luke’s direction.

“Mistress, I am sorry to interrupt…” K’gworth whispered the rest into her ear. The pink glow left her face, her smile gone as though wiped off a transparisteel viewport with a cloth. When he finished speaking and stepped back, she ran toward the door on uneven legs, her usual grace missing.

“Beast?” Luke called after her. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer, and soon disappeared from his sight. K’gworth stared after her, his shoulders slumped

Luke turned to K’gworth, his hands balled into fists. “What did you say to her?”

K’gworth straightened his back. His moustache bristled, bouncing between his lips and nose. “This…this,” he sputtered, “this is all your fault, boy!” He stomped after the Beast, his boots ringing on the polished stone floor.

Luke turned his glare on Looma, huddled against the doorway. “Do you know what is going on?”

“Non,” Looma answered. He appeared to have folded over, like a wax candle left aflame too long. “But I must leave. You will excuse me?”

Luke nodded his head. But Looma had already exited, his shoulders slumped and drooping.

Luke waited for the Beast in the Lavender Salon that night like always, but she didn’t appear. He went to bed without a glimpse of her. The same happened the next night. And the next.

* * *

  
On the fourth morning, Luke made his way to the Ivory Ballroom at usual time. She wasn’t there. Although by now he didn't expect to see her, the disappointment hit like a hard fist to his solar plexus. He shrugged it off and started to practice his katas alone, but his heart wasn't in it. Something was off. His breath hitched when he realized the thing he was missing was…her.

He missed the bright flash of her Force signature as she leapt to greet his saber with hers. Missed the way she bit her right side of her bottom lip as she puzzled out her moves. Even missed the sharp-edged taunts she’d throw at him in a fruitless effort to break his concentration.

Sunlight streamed through the ballroom’s floor to ceiling windows, but the day was gloomy, bereft. The golden glow lighting the room only reminded him of her unusual yellow eyes, glowing with triumph whenever she managed to get a hit in, softening with appreciation whenever he showed her a new strategy.

He didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Looma, Pottz and K’gworth had said barely three words to him since the Beast disappeared, claiming they had pressing work in other wings of the castle. It was too soon for the evening meal, and staring at the four walls of his bedroom had zero appeal.

Perhaps he could find the literary work she mentioned at their last dinner and read it in anticipation of their next meeting (there would be a next meeting, wouldn’t there? There had to be). He was sure K’gworth mentioned the castle contained a library. Perhaps it held the volume he sought. He set off to find it, deciding to start with the unexplored chambers in the Northwest Wing.

The sun had long left the sky by the time he finally pushed open a heavy wood door to reveal a room lined from polished stone floor to high, arching ceiling with shelves. So many shelves, it would probably take a day and then some to count them all. And on those shelves were…what were those? Books? He’d heard of them, but books had been phased out of use long before he was born. Tatooine was not kind to fragile items prone to sun damage and decay.

He picked up the nearest one. It was made of sheets of something like flimsiplast, all stitched together and held between two heavier, more durable sheets. He rifled through it, text and pictures rushing by. He didn’t recognize the language, but the illustrations reminded him of the tapestry in his bedroom.

He ventured further into the library, noting a large cavernous space with a fire burning brightly inside it and two overstuffed, high backed chairs placed before it. The chairs were worn, the cushions dented as if by decades of use. A thick layer of dust covered one, but the other chair appeared to have been occupied recently. He sneezed, his nose tickled by the room’s dry yet somewhat musty smell.

A section of one wall was dedicated to datapads. Finally, something he knew. He hurried over and began searching for something he could read. But he couldn’t find anything in Basic. Frustrated, he sat down on the cold stone to look at the bottom shelf.

But the shelf did not contain datapads, or books. Instead, it held…cubes. And a few other other polyhedral shapes. Made of shimmering crystals and shining metals, they were all sized to fit comfortably in a hand.

One cube, less shiny and noticeable than its neighbors, tugged at Luke’s Force sense. He reached toward the back of the shelf, plucked it from its obscure corner. It began to glow, as if responding to his interest. “What are you?” he asked. “It’s as if you’re trying to tell me something.”

He turned the cube over and over--

“What are you doing?” said a low, husky voice from across the room.

Luke almost dropped the cube. He hurriedly thrust it into his tunic. “Beast!” he exclaimed, turning to face her. “You’re back!”

His arms outstretched in greeting, he walked toward the black cloaked figure. But his smile faded as he grew closer. Her normally pale skin was ashen gray, the freckles standing out as dark smudges. Purple shadows, the shade of a day-old bruise, underlined her eyes. “Beast?” he said. “You look like you haven’t slept since I last saw you.” Concern made his words rough.

She gave a short laugh and stalked toward one of the chairs before the fireplace. Her usual catlike grace was gone, replaced by a stiff-legged march. White lines of pain furrowed her brow, despite her obvious effort to smooth and hide them. “I can sleep when I’m no longer walking among the galaxy’s stars,” she said, gingerly settling onto the cushions.

“You’re injured.” Luke sat down on the chair next to her, heedless of the dust that billowed around him.

She started to shrug, but it turned into a flinch. “Nothing time, bacta and a healing trance won’t take care of. But,” she said and then hesitated, looking down at her hands. They were red and raw, Luke noticed. “I needed to speak with you.”

"It can wait. Let me call Pottz. You need rest."

"Not right now." She waved off his concern, and then caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Are you happy here?" she asked in a rush. "With me, I mean?”

“What?” Luke felt like a womp rat caught in the crosshairs. “I…,” his voice trailed off as he turned the questions over in his mind. “I am happy,” he said finally. “When I’m with you. But…"

"You're needed elsewhere."

He nodded. "My friends. I'm worried about them.”

“Of course.” She stared into the empty fireplace, her shoulders slumping. Then she sighed before turning back to him. “Right. We don’t have much time.”

“What’s going on?” But even as the words left his mouth, Luke understood. “It’s the Emperor,” he said, his voice flat. “He’s finally coming for me.”

The Beast pulled the hood off her head, her red-gold curls falling free. “Yes,” she said. “But not just for you.” She pulled a small device out from under her cloak. The surface was flat and glassy, like a mirror. She pushed a button and a holographic star chart of the galaxy sprung to life around them. “This,” she said, using her hands to spin the chart and zoom in on a particular coordinate, “is the _Stellar Peace II_.” A familiar moon-shaped object appeared before Luke.

“That’s the Death Star,” he said, a hollow pit in his stomach. "I destroyed it." The voices started up again: you killed them all they are all dead-- no! you did what you had to do you saved even more lives-- It was as if the cube whispered back, fought against the dark messages. His fingers tightened on it underneath his tunic.

She shook her head. “No. It’s the second _Stellar Pe_—I mean, Death Star. “

“A second one?” Luke stared at her. “But that’s…”

“Impossible. Only it's very real.” She swiped her finger, and the chart shifted. “And here is Diswalt.” She zeroed in on a planet with two moons. They were positioned as if Diswalt were a head and the satellites its ears.

Despite the fire burning bright near by, Luke was suddenly very, very cold. “The Death Star is in the same quadrant as us.”

She nodded. “And this—” she pointed at a nearby star system, “--is where your Rebellion fleet is stationed.”

The realization slammed into him with the force of two photon torpedoes. “The fleet is heading into a trap.”

“Yes,” she said simply. She waved her hands and the map disappeared.

Anger hit like a lightning strike, sharp and fast. He concentrated on his breathing, each gasp a struggle. “Why are you telling me this?" he managed to force out. "Why, when I can see what will happen but I can’t stop it! Are you really such a Beast?”

He automatically stretched out with the Force, searching for Leia, anyone, someone who could hear him and heed his warning. But just as it had been since his first night, he felt no one.

No one, except the Beast. She remained still, as if a statue had replaced her in the chair. Only her gaze remained vibrant, shimmering with hot emotion. “Yes, I am a Beast,” she eventually said. “That’s what I am. But I can think like a human. Feel like one.” A short, mirthless laugh. “At least, I haven't been able to deny it these last weeks.”

She rose from the chair, wincing slightly. Here,” she said, handing him the device, “this is top of the line Imperial tech. It will allow you to find your friends. My shuttle is cloaked in the back garden, fueled and ready. The transponder code should allow you to escape Imperial notice.” She gave him a tight smile. “You’re on your own in persuading your Rebel friends to take you in.”

Luke turned the device over and over in his hands. “I don’t understand.”

She ignored him. “I’ll send a White Worker to escort you to the ship. Looma is packing your things as we speak.”

He caught her slender hand in his, causing her to stop. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

She looked down at their joined hands, then back up at him. “Let’s just say someone showed me how to stop using the Force as a blunt instrument. Once I did that, many things to which I was blind became clear.”

He held her yellow gaze with his – no. Not yellow. Green. Her eyes were green. The green of a new leaf being born in the spring. “What happened? Where were you?”

She swallowed, her fingers tightening on his. Warmth spread from where they connected, traveled the length of his limbs. “I was sent on a hunt by my Master,” she said softly. “The prey didn’t deserve to be hunted. I did what I could, but his life wasn't mine to save. Now I am ensuring others won’t die.”

“But you're hurt,” he said, fighting the urge to brush an errant curl off her face.

Her gaze dropped to the floor. “Not as much as I have hurt others in the past. Now go. You don’t have much time.”

“Come with me,” he blurted out. “The Rebellion could use you.”

"Just the Rebellion?" She raised an eyebrow and half-smirked at him.

"I--" he began, but she cut him off, with a shake of her head, the humor disappearing from her expression as quickly as it had appeared.

“I cannot. My Master still commands me. But you? I release you, Luke Skywalker. You are free to go.” She let go of his hand, leaving his fingers empty and cold, and walked through the door.

“I’ll return,” he called after her. “I promise.”

“Don’t be stupid, farmer,” he heard from a distance – or maybe through the Force – and she was gone.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MAURICE: But the beast. How did you escape?
> 
> BELLE: I didn't escape, Papa. He let me go.
> 
> MAURICE: That horrible beast?
> 
> BELLE: He's different, now.

It felt strange to pilot a spacecraft. To slip the bounds of planetary gravity and be free among the stars again. Luke had dreamed of this moment, of escaping Diswalt and the castle and the Beast’s custody. He imagined how ecstatic freedom would feel, how delicious liberation would taste. The galaxy would not be big enough to contain his jubilation.

In reality, parting from the Beast left him cold and bereft. He knew she was right. He knew he had to warn the rebels. But even as the welcome sight of _Home One_ filled his viewport, he fought the urge to turn the shuttle around. After all, Leia and Han had an entire Alliance with which to fight. And they had each other.

The Beast had no one except Pottz, K’gworth and Looma. And while he appreciated the strange trio far more than he had ever thought possible when he first met them, three almost but not quite alive servants were no match for the Emperor.

He just hoped he would return to her in time.

He transmitted his command codes and was given immediate permission to dock. Despite his worry for the Beast, his heart thumped painfully at the thought of finally seeing his friends. It has been so long. But when he descended the ship’s ramp, only Threepio was there to greet him. “Master Luke!” the droid exclaimed. “You are such a sight for sore eyes! Did your top secret mission go well?”

“My what?” Luke asked. Then he remembered. The Beast had used the dark side of the Force to wipe everyone’s memories as she allowed the _Millennium Falcon_ to escape. Apparently that had extended to Threepio and the _Falcon_’s computers.

“Your mission! When we didn’t hear from you, we feared the worst. The Princess will be so happy to hear you are back!”

Luke looked around. Only essential landing bay personnel seemed to on the deck. “Speaking of, where is Leia? And Han? And Admiral Ackbar? I must speak with them at once.”

“Oh! I nearly forgot! You will want to go the main briefing roof. Mon Mothma giving an address. Come along. This way, this way.”

Luke followed the droid and arrived in the briefing room just in time to hear Mon Mothma mention the new battle station. Good. So they knew already. He searched for his friends to see if he could take a seat near them, but Han and Leia sat in the center of the room, toward the front near where Mon Mothma spoke. Luke settled into a chair in the back, not wanting to draw attention to himself while the leader of the Alliance was speaking.

“We’ve learned the Emperor himself is personally overseeing the final stages of the construction of this new Death Star.” Mon Mothma paused, her eyes downcast. “Many Bothans died at the hands of the Emperor’s Beasts to bring us this information. It’s a miracle one of the Beasts somehow let our spy slip through the deadly net.”

Luke sat up straighter. Was that the mission his Beast had been on? Where she received all her injuries? She had helped the Rebels?

He had to get back to Diswalt. If the Emperor knew…

“Our information pinpoints the exact location of the Emperor's new battle station. But most important of all, we've learned that the Emperor himself is personally overseeing the final stages of the construction of this Death Star,” Mon Mothma continued.

Luke exhaled and the hard knot of worry making a permanent home between his shoulder blades began to unravel. If the Emperor was overseeing the Death Star, then he wasn’t on Diswalt.

Admiral Ackbar came to stand next to Mon Mothma. He pushed a button, and a hologram of a familiar planet with two moons for ears appeared. Luke’s knot tangled and spread. “You can see here the Death Star orbiting planet of Diswalt. Although the weapon systems on this Death Star are not yet operational, the Death Star does have a strong defense mechanism. It is protected by an energy shield, which is generated from a tower on the planet. The shield must be deactivated for any attack to be successful. Once the shield is down, our fighters will be able to knock out the main reactor.”

Oh. No. _No no no no no no_. He immediately knew the tower had to be the Beast’s. He sprung to his feet. “I volunteer to take down the shield.”

“Luke!” Leia jumped out of her seat and ran to him, crushing him with her hug as much as her petite frame would allow. “You’re back!”

“Hey, kid.” Han followed behind her and gave him a bruising slap on the back. “Good to see you.” Chewie growled his agreement from where he stood along the far wall.

“We volunteer, too,” Leia said, her brown eyes shining. “Don’t we, Han?”

“No,” Luke said quickly. The last thing he needed was Han or Leia getting trigger-happy around the Beast. His friends would see the monster only. They wouldn’t know the Beast was so much more.

“What?” Leia turned to him, her eyebrows knitted together. “You’ll need us. You can’t do this alone.”

“Yes, I can—“ Luke started to say, but Admiral Ackbar cut him off.

“We thank you, Commander Skywalker, but access to the planet is restricted to Imperial ships. Without one, we cannot—“

“I have one,” Luke said. “An Imperial shuttle. It’s sitting in the landing bay right now.”

“How did you—“

“Nice going, kid—“

Han and Leia spoke over each other, but Luke didn’t hear them. He gently pushed past them and walked down the stairs of the made his way to Admiral Ackbar. “I can take down the shield. But I have to go alone.”

“Admiral, tell him he’s being unreasonable,” Leia commanded.

Luke didn’t look at her. He kept his gaze fixed on the Mon Calimari. “The Emperor is on that planet. He's come for me. That's why I have to go. I have to face him.”

“Great. One top secret mission and he’s got delusions of grandeur.” Han tried to roll his eyes, but it came out as more of a grimace.

Luke finally faced his friends. “You know it’s the truth. He wants me for his collection of Beasts. He won’t stop. The longer I remain here, the more danger I’m putting the Alliance in.”

Leia put her hand on his shoulder, forced him to look at her. “You have a power I don’t understand and never will. But don’t go to the Emperor. Leave! Run far away.”

Luke shook his head. “I can’t. There’s someone else – the Emperor keeps a Beast on that planet. She can’t stay there. I have to persuade her to leave.”

Chewie roared and Han snorted. “A Beast? That’s an even better reason for taking that shuttle and skedaddling to the other side of the galaxy.”

Leia shook her head, her dark gaze disbelieving. “Luke, are you insane?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I…I met her on my mission. She’s kind. And gentle. In her own way.”

The room, mostly quiet as the three friends talked, erupted into a low roar of whispers and comments hissed behind hands. Admiral Ackbar stepped forward. “Commander Skywalker, we thank you for bringing us an Imperial Shuttle. But I suggest you get a good night’s sleep before you speak further.”

“But—“ Luke protested.

“That’s an order,” the Admiral said He turned to the bearded man deep in conversation with Mon Mothma. “General Madine, you will prepare a strike team to storm that tower. We need that shield DOWN.”

General Madine nodded. “They’ll deactivate the generator. And they won’t come home until that Beast is good and dead.”

“No!“ Luke protested. “You don’t understand. Who do you think let the Bothan spy go? It was her. The Beast.”

Admiral Ackbar shook his head sadly. “I fear your mission, whatever it was, has gravely compromised you. You are confined to quarters, immediately. General Madine, gather your team and take Commander Skywalker’s shuttle, at once.”

Luke had to do something. He had to act. They coulnd’t go after the Beast. The strike team would only be killed, and her life would be at risk as well. Concentrating on Ackbar, he raised his hand and started to intone. “You will allow me access to the shuttle and safe passage to Dis—“

Something large, and furry, and HARD hit the side of his head. He crumpled to the cold metal deck of the briefing room.

“Sorry, kid,” he heard Han say as consciousness started to drift away. “It’s for your own good.”


End file.
